


Choosing Between Extremes

by CustardBattle



Category: Dick Figures
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Blue vs his gay feelings, Canada, Cheating, F/M, Homophobic Language, M/M, Multi, Road Trips, This is the first Dick Figures fic on AO3, What am I doing with my life?, Wow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CustardBattle/pseuds/CustardBattle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pink and Blue are getting married, and Blue can finally, finally, live a normal, boring life like he always wanted to. Red has a way of worming into everything, though, and a road trip across the country is planned. This'll probably go great.</p><p>Now with more Canada!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Fuck it Up

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on finishing this. This was one of the first things I ever wrote, and the majority of it was written in one go, without any sort of proofreading. I'll rewrite the majority of the story, then post it in its entirety, because hoo boy is it garbage right now.

Blue woke up in an exhausted sludge. His mind worked, and he stretched, letting his legs extend and his toes curl. He remembered where he was when his leg brushed against someone else’s. He blinked away the blur in his eyes, and saw Pink lying asleep. Her hair was in a messy mop around her face, and he brushed some hairs away from her mouth and jaw, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

His chest bloomed with warmth, and he got a moment to admire her face, the sun illuminating her golden hair, the gentle curve of her lip, the pale skin flecked with freckles. God, she was so beautiful. 

God, he was so in love. The fact had solidified in him for almost a year, and it never got any less terrifying.

With the gooey feeling came guilt. He tried to forget a week ago, where his frustration and anger had peaked, and he’d fucked Red against their grimy refrigerator. It’d been so harsh he’d seen bruises on Red’s hips later that night, not that Red had complained.

He tried to push the memory from his mind, but it stuck in his brain, holding on and refusing to let go. He was in love with Pink; their wedding was quickly approaching. He needed to focus on her. In less than a month they’d get married, move in together, and he could leave the insanity that Red constantly pulled him into.

It didn’t change the fact that he’d cheated on his girlfriend.

Pink opened her eyes and yawned.

“Good morning.” Her voice sounded scratchy, and she cleared it, rolling over onto her stomach. Blue’d always been jealous of how quickly she could wake up. It wasn’t in slow steps like him. She had two modes: awake and asleep. He kissed her, this time on her mouth, and when he pulled back, she scrunched her nose.

“You have morning breath.” She said. She brushed some blonde hair behind her ear, and Blue acted normal. He tried not to let the strain show in his smile. _Just act normal. Don’t tell her the truth._

He couldn’t tell her the truth, because it would mean everything would be over. His future would be over, Pink would leave him, and he’d be back to living in his and Red’s shitty apartment, constantly surrounded by his infuriating manner. He moved through Blue’s life like a hurricane, trashing everything normal and healthy in his life, and he had finally been given a chance to escape. In a month he could finally be a regular person. He just needed to keep himself from screwing it up.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, getting up from the bed, “I should go brush my teeth.”

“Come back after you do,” she said, and Blue could hear some flirtation leak into her voice, “I have something for you.”

Blue grinned at her, and stumbled into her bathroom. He grabbed his toothbrush, the one he specifically kept at her house. He’d stayed over at Pink’s for the last couple days, and pretended he wanted to be with her to plan for the wedding. It wasn’t completely a lie. There was a lot to do, a lot of decisions to make. Just thinking about planning made him stressed.

He brushed his teeth, going through the motions mindlessly. When he spat and rinsed out his mouth, he cupped some water in his hand, splashing some on his face. His reflection looked tired in the mirror, but normal. He noticed he’d been gaining weight recently, because he actually ate a decent amount with Pink. He couldn’t see his ribs, and his stomach had a slight pudginess to it. He decided he didn’t mind.

When he stepped back into the bedroom, Pink had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and had slipped on her thick reading glasses as she scrolled through her phone. She shut it off when he neared the bed, and took his arm, pulling him towards her. He crawled on top, straddling her with a smile.

“Good way to wake up, huh?”

He kissed her, and while she had a hint of morning breath too, she tasted sweet. He breathed her in, could smell something soft and powdery, gently feminine. She let out a breath, and held onto his waist, pulling herself back.

“The best way.”

She leaned back, giving him a view of her neck, and he nuzzled the pale flesh behind her ear. When he started kissing and licking her jaw, she giggled, but pulled her face back.

“No hickies. I have that meeting tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

He was tenting his boxers. Pink laid back, and he pushed them down, jerkily kicking them off. He pulled at her cotton white panties, revealing the dark patch of hair.

“I love you,” he mumbled into her hair, lining himself up.

“Love you, too, Baby Blue.”

Pink was beautiful, and perfect, and everything he could ever want in a woman. However, fucking was always the same: missionary position, slow and sweet, with Blue holding himself back. He couldn’t deny that the sex was good, amazing even. She made breathy little moans as he thrust into her, and the heat between her legs was tight and slick. It was just monotonous, boring. He allowed his mind to wander, remembering the times when he really allowed himself to lose control, fuck until he and his partner were bruised and sore. He kept his movements slow and controlled, though, knowing it was what Pink preferred.

He felt himself grow close anyways, could feel the tightening in his balls and the heat in his gut.

He came with gritted growl, slowing to a stop after some jerky thrusts. Pink brought her hands to cup his face, bringing him into a brief kiss.

“Thanks, baby.” She nudged him pointedly, and he rolled off her.

“You want me to go down on you?” He asked, “You didn’t come.” Pink shook her head, getting up instead and walking to the bathroom.

“Nope. I’m already late for work, and I desperately need a shower. Thanks, though, Blue. You’re such a good guy.”

Blue still didn't know if being called a 'good guy' was a positive thing. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

_Just act normal._

The door shut behind her, and he heard the rush of water, muted behind the bathroom wall. He tried not to think about Red. He’d go to work, run some errands for Pink, and sit down with her to do some planning. Just avoid Red for now, don’t think about Red. He just needed his calendar.

He realized his calendar was at his and Red’s apartment. He brushed a hand through his hair and groaned.

_Shit._


	2. Really. Don't Fuck It Up

After work he headed down to their place. The drive took around 30 minutes, and his shoulders slumped as high-end, trendy apartments slowly turned into alleyways, and bars, and low-income housing. It was always surprising that the wealthiest people lived just twenty blocks down from gangsters and those who toed the poverty line. Blue had always hated the place. Sirens and gun-shots would constantly wake him up in the night, and he’d often find used condoms or hypodermic needles when he took out the trash. Red never wanted to move, mostly because he found it exciting. Blue’d only stayed because this was the only place this cheap with two bedrooms. Even with a full-time job, it’s not like Red ever helped with the rent.

He walked up the stairs, opened the door, and went along the grimy hallways. He passed the splotch of mildew by their door. One time when he and Red got high they named it Johnny and gave it a personality. Blue didn’t have the heart to scrub it off after that, though he’d admit laziness also had something to do with that decision.

He stuck the key in, but the door was unlocked. He pushed it open, and wrinkled his nose at the smell. The room was rank with pot, sex, and old takeout containers. He sighed. He’d get his calendar, then he’d leave. He could do this.

The door to his room opened, and Stacy, in nothing but underwear and a wrinkled t-shirt, stumbled out to investigate the noise.

“Hey, Blue,” she looked at him through lidded eyes. Stacy wasn’t drunk by any means, but she still kept the dizzy slur in her voice. She’d had it ever since they’d broken up years ago, and it was just as annoying now as it was then, “how you doing, baby?”

Red followed behind her, smug and shirtless, covered in bright marks along his chest and neck. Blue avoided his gaze. They both stepped into the kitchen with him, and he tried to crush his anger down when Red pulled out a flask.

“Hey, Stacy. Fuck!” He pushed past them, walking to his room, “Did you guys have sex in my bed again?”

Red made a scoffing noise.

“It’s not like you’re using it. We give it a good home.” Stacy gave out a squeal, and Blue walked away from sloppy kissing noises.

He stepped through the doorway, and any angry comment he could have made died in his throat. A man, sweaty and naked sat on the edge of his bed, smoking a cigarette.

“Who are you?”

Blue’s tone was a little demanding considering the man had a good foot on him and was covered in wicked-looking tattoos, but he just gave a long drag, breathed it out, and replied, “John.”

He didn’t offer anything else, just continued to smoke and be naked. Blue decided this wasn’t the best use of his time. He opened his closet, rummaging through a pile of wrinkled shirts and old shoes. He found it after a minute, and grabbed a couple shirts hanging up, bunching them under his arm. When he turned around, he considered saying something to ‘John’ but decided against it. He needed to get back to reality.

Red and Stacy were on the kitchen table making out. He ignored them, ignored their gasps and moans, ignored how annoying and irresponsible they were and went straight for the door. He said hi to Mr. Dingleberry on the way out and sat himself down in his car, taking a deep breath.

He could still hear the little moan Red’d given out below Stacy, and heat in his belly rose up. He remembered his moans from two weeks ago, had heard them up close and personal. He could remember the feel of Red’s skin pressed up against his own, the smell of smoke, sweat, and sex hanging thick around them.

It was so fucked up of him. This was what pieces of shit did. And yet, here he was with this fucked memory and a pit of guilt in his stomach.

God, he and Pink were getting married, for fuck’s sake. And further than that, he was supposed to be straight. He shook his head. No, he was straight. He loved Pink, and was attracted to Pink: personality, boobs, and all. He’d felt an unbelievable amount of stress that week, with planning the wedding, and work had been a bitch. The apartment was a fucking mess, with dishes piled high in the sink, and empty beer bottles scattered everywhere. Their bills were overdue for the apartment, and Red, like always, did nothing to help them not get evicted. Red, also like always, kept on being an asshole, and kept up and air of obnoxious confidence while Blue was practically falling apart from stress.

So naturally, something had to snap. It happened on Sunday night, a little past midnight. Blue was supposed to have work the next morning, and fuck, he knew that if he was late one more time, his boss would kick his ass to the curb. Red didn’t care, and invited over some random bitch and started having loud, messy sex until the long hours of the night. Fantastic.

Blue complained, he yelled, he threatened to kick Red out, but nothing helped. Once Red was in the groove of sex, nothing pulled him out of it.

Blue swore he felt an aneurysm coming on.

Blue had stood steaming in their filthy kitchen, when Red strolled in looking smug as ever.

“Fuck, dude,” he’d said, going in for a high five that Blue refused to reciprocate, “I really reeled it in tonight, huh?”

Blue’d been too angry to speak, though he very much wanted to. He wanted to yell at Red about the mess, his job, the stupid fucking wedding, and most of all, the noisy sex keeping him up until stupid hours. Red went to open the fridge.

“Too bad you’re way too boring to get any. You gotta stop being such a pussy. Chicks love a wild guy.”

Yup. There it was. That was it. Blue’d slammed the fridge closed, shoving Red against it hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Blue used his forearm, pinning Red’s neck down.

“Woah,” Red had exclaimed, his voice still so smug it made Blue’s vision start to white out, “if I didn’t know any better I’d suspect you’re coming on to me.”

“Well,” Blue’d gritted, reaching around and under Red’s shirt to feel his chest and stomach. He leaned in to bite at the skin of red’s neck, “guess you don’t know me very well.”

Red had only responded with a moan, and things quickly went downhill from there.

Once he’d finished, he pulled his pants up like nothing happened, letting Red lean against the fridge as he buckled himself up. The girl Red’d been fucking was standing at the doorway of his bedroom. Blue ignored her.

“Holy shit,” was all he’d heard as he slammed the door behind him.

Blue started the car and drove away. _Just act normal_ , he thought to himself, _just another two months and you’re home free forever. No Red, no Stacy, not idiotic plans and dangerous situations. Just Pink and a job and a normal, healthy life._ He let himself breathe out. He could do it.

He did some errands on the way home. He needed to get groceries. They’d run out of milk, and Pink needed a ton of different items for the bridal shower she wanted to throw. After that, he went and got booze, again for the bridal shower. After that, he picked up some insurance papers for the car, and stopped at the drycleaner to pick up some of Pink’s work clothes. He did this all mindlessly and he finally drove home.

Pink’s car was in her parking spot, and he took all the stuff, letting himself lean against the rail of the elevator. It dinged, and he stepped out, knocking on the door.

It opened for him, and before he could say hi to Pink, she shushed him, holding up a finger. She had an agenda and a pen in her hands, and held a phone awkwardly between her ear and shoulder.

“Mm-hmm,” she said as Blue stepped inside, letting the door fall shut, “we’ll be gone until the twenty seventh of August, so he’d be available to start the next day if needed.” She walked away from him, scribbling something else down as she listened.

Blue was too tired to follow the conversation, so he went to put the groceries away, pulling produce and bread and tofu out of the plastic bags. Red would probably gag at the stuff they kept in the pantry: not a single package of ramen or bag of chips to be found. He had to admit he missed the stuff, but fuck if he was ever going back to that shithole. Besides, he felt much healthier eating actual food, though the smoothies Pink sometimes made in the morning made him sick to the stomach.

He felt arms around his waist as he put away some cheese, and he turned around to face his fiancée, giving her a quick peck on the nose.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said, pulling back to sit herself on the counter, smoothing out the creases in her pencil skirt. Blue closed the fridge, “I have something exciting to tell you.”

Blue and Pink generally had different definitions of ‘exciting’. Pink usually talked about brunch-dates, rom-coms, and upcoming music festivals. Not that her version was bad, exactly. Blue’s idea of exciting had started out as a synonym for ‘cool’ and had quickly slipped into the ‘terrifying and insane’ camp.

“What is it?”

“Well, I know you’ve been looking for a job, and I just got off the phone with Pauling and Chen. They say they’re interested in an interview if you get in contact.”

“Why would Pauling and Chen be calling me?” It’s not like he was a stellar employee, despite his age and experience. Pauling and Chen was a big dog compared to the companies he’d worked with in the past. Pink gave him a mischievous look.

“I might have talked to my dad about your search. He said he’d ask around.” She gave a squeal. “Isn’t this amazing?”

Blue nodded.

“So where do I send my stuff?”

“I’ll forward you the email when I get the chance,” She seemed to remember something, “Oh, and by the way, we need to sit down and make some final decisions about the reception. They’re expecting bookings by the end of the week.”

And just like that, her focus on him faded, and she hopped down from the counter, her eyes focused.

“I have to make some calls. I think there’s some Chinese in the fridge.”

She started dialing her phone, grabbing her agenda and desperately flipping through it as the line rang. Blue watched her pace to their cluttered kitchen table, seating herself around piles of paperwork.

He heated up some leftovers, grabbed his laptop, and lied on the couch. There was so much to do. With the wedding quickly approaching, almost all of Blue’s time had been consumed with planning. He still had planning to do now, and the stress of the endless amount of work burnt low in his stomach. He didn’t particularly feel like doing it now, so instead he mindlessly scrolled through Reddit. Procrastination seemed like a much better option.

He quickly got tired of scrolling through endless comments, so he turned to Youtube, then Facebook, and finally found a low-rated movie on Netflix that he was willing to sit through. He finally let his brain shut off, and he soaked himself in the questionable script and unnecessary explosions. He slouched on the sofa. He hadn’t realized how much his exhaustion had caught up to him. His eyes had just started to nod closed when the couch dipped under Pink’s weight. He blinked, his eyes cloudy, and she pointed to one of his earphones with her fork.

“Can I listen, too?” She said around a mouthful of beef and broccoli. Blue handed her a headphone, and she leaned against him, plate balanced in her lap. She’d let her hair out of the usual bun, and golden hair fell around her in messy strands. He kissed the top of her head, feeling his heart melt when she giggled.

Fuck Red, fuck the insanity, the drugs, the poor housing and terrible choices. This was where he belonged: watching horrible movies on a Friday night with Pink nestled at his side. He wanted to be here. He grabbed her hand in his, and their fingers entwined. He wanted to be here. He wanted to be here with the woman he loved and who loved him back, and he wanted a normal life, a good job, and a chance that his life might mean something someday. He wanted this, so hard that he squeezed Pink's hand. His gut tightened when the cold silver of her engagement ring brushed against his palm.

Did he?


	3. Sweet, Sweet Exposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised Canada, and there will be Canada soon.

 

 

“So,” Pink said a couple days later as she spread her agenda, computer, and a cup of coffee out on the table, “more wedding plans.” Blue grimaced, raising his own mug upwards as a shaky toast.

“More wedding plans.”

She put her head in her hands and sighed, “I know. I just want to sleep.”

Blue chuckled and gave her a sympathetic pat on the back. She looked up at him through her hair, straightening her spine and picking up a pen.

“Okay, first things first. The Bridal shower.” He leaned over to see a thick red circle around the Saturday they’d chosen.

“I made up a guest list. Look over it if there’s other people you want to invite.”

She pulled a list taped to her agenda and passed it to him. He was in a constant state of awe over how organized she was.

The list was pretty much what he expected. It had Pink’s parents, her sisters, some cousins, Pink’s group of girlfriends, Blue’s remaining family, most notably including his hen of an aunt and some cousins he hadn’t seen in two years. At the very bottom, however, was Red and Stacy. Blue gave Pink a confused glance.

“Everyone else is good, but why are you inviting them?”

“The thing about Red and Stacy,” she explained with an irritated glance, “Is that they show up whether they’re invited or not. So I’ve told them that the party starts at 9:00. They’ll come a couple hours late. Hopefully my grandparents will be gone by then. I can just see them having a heart attack.” Pink chuckled at this, and Blue jumped in, feeling some anxiety bubble up in his chest.

“But you don’t really want Red and Stacy there, right? Why not keep the shower a secret?” God, dealing with Red and Pink in the same room was the last thing he needed right now. Just thinking about his roommate made him feel guilty.

“I know Stacy’s,” she gave a pause, obviously trying to make her point without sounding mean, “very outgoing sometimes, but she’s my friend, and I want her there, even if it means having her there later then everyone else.” Her featured shifted.

“As for Red,” she said, and Blue tried his best to keep his face neutral. “There’s no way around it: I hate him and think he’s a dick. He’s important to you, though, so even if I can’t stand him, I want him to be there for you.”

She looked at him with such a caring expression he felt sick. God, she was so trusting, so kind. There was nothing he could say to argue after that, not without seeming suspicious.

“Okay,” he croaked, giving a smile. “What’s next for the planning?”

She put her hands on the table.

“I booked two things while you were gone, so don’t freak out.” She looked at Blue, who immediately started to freak out.

“This was Stacy’s idea.” Yes, any idea of Stacy’s was guaranteed to help him calm down. “Stacy and the rest of our girlfriends are gonna go on a cruise to Alaska together.”

For a moment, Blue wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Where did this come from?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” explained Pink, “and I’m really looking forwards to the changes we’re going through. But, they’re still big changes. I want some time to go crazy, be young and stupid.”

The last time a girl had said something like this, she’d dropped out of med school and took up a career of drinking and dicks. Pink went on.

“I want to savour the time before I become an adult, you know?”

It was hard to understand how Pink could become more of an adult than she was now, even by getting married. She knew her way around taxes like a champ, could dress appropriately for brunch, and somehow managed to juggle a full-time job, her book club, time at the gym, and keeping in contact with her wide group of friends. Blue had no idea how she did it, though he suspected that she’d always been an adult, had come out of the womb with a full knowledge of pairing wines.

“So, when are you leaving?”

Pink pointed to a new date on her calendar.

“The cruise leaves from Vancouver on the 7th and gets back on the 21rst. So I’ve booked a flight that leaves the night before straight to Vancouver. After the cruise drops us off in Vancouver, we’ll start setting up for the wedding.”

It sounded like a solid plan, but something caught his eye. He pointed to something written on the same date.

“Why are Red and I leaving on the 6th, too?”

“That’s the second part of the plan. If I get to celebrate the time before I become an adult, I feel like you should too.”

This didn’t sound good. Blue swallowed uncomfortably.

“I’ve rented a car from Winnipeg. You and Red have three weeks to meet us in Vancouver.”

“You want us to go on a, uh, road trip?” He needed to stop this before the plan left the ground. Spending three weeks in a car with Red sounded like a complete disaster waiting to happen. Plus, he remembered the last time they’d taken a trip together. He really didn’t need a repeat of the incident.

And even forgetting all of the above, this was the opposite of what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to be keeping Red from his life, separating reality from insanity.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I want you to go on this trip, Blue, and I’m not taking any excuses from you. You’re not going to see Red very often after we’re married. Even if you feel nervous, do it for me.”

He was getting roped into this. He kept his mouth shut, not sure what he could do.

“Plus,” she went on, giving Blue a shrug, “if he’s really that unbearable, just hop on the plane and rest in Vancouver for the remaining time. Believe me, I’ve thought this through.”

“You sure sound like you have.”

“Anyways,” she pulled out a stack of papers from her agenda, and Blue tried to suppress a sigh. “I’m gonna make some coffee. We have a lot more planning to do.”

Her chair scraped against the floor as she got up. Blue inspected the pile, and felt his shoulders sink as he counted seven lists of things they needed to do, including a list of lists they had to make of things they needed to do.

“Can you make it twice as strong?” He called to the kitchen. He rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Already on it,” replied Pink. Blue picked up a pen, and got to work.


	4. Death by Entrance Hall Greetings

Considering the sheer amount of moving parts, the set up for the bridal shower went smoothly, to Blue’s complete surprise. The caterers showed up right on time, just as they’d finished cleaning the apartment. While Pink went off to pick up dishes she’d rented, Blue drove around and got flowers, unreasonably fancy napkins, and a huge pre-ordered crate of champagne. All this had been covered graciously by Pink’s parents, which left Blue feeling out of place. He’d known Pink’s family was old money since they first started dating, but the scale of their wealth still surprised him. Blue didn’t recognise the brand, but didn’t doubt it was staggeringly expensive.

When he got back, the caterers had already set up sets of tables, placing platters of cheeses, fruits, and various dips with sliced baguette, all covered in plastic wrap. The caterers ignored him, and he tiptoed around them, eventually figuring out to place the champagne in the kitchen next to the boxes of flowers. Pink took the box, inspecting the blossoms.

“Shit,” she looked disappointed, and Blue briefly thought he did something wrong.

“What?” She gestured to the napkins, the tablecloths, and finally to the roses. “They were supposed to be pink roses, not red ones. It doesn’t match the theme. Fuck, I specifically told them.”

“Uh, should I go pick up new ones?” Blue didn’t understand Pink sighed, and shook her head.

“It’s okay. We can figure it out. Actually, Go pick up white napkins instead. Everything else is white, so I guess the roses will be fine.”

Blue did as he was told.

He gave the proper napkins to the caterers, who switched them in a rushed thanks and shooed him out of the kitchen. He went to the bedroom instead. On the back of the door he found his slacks and shirt, freshly pressed in a suit-bag hanging on the back of the door. He sighed. He’d never owned a suit-bag in his entire life. He took it off the hook and brought it into the bathroom, rummaging through his designated drawer to find an appropriate pair of socks.

He showered quickly. They had about forty five minutes before the guests would start to show up. Lord Tourette’s was helping greet the guests, and he’d show up in half an hour. When Pink had explained this to him, while they’d planned over takeout Chinese, he’d looked at her like she was crazy.

“You’re worried about Stacey scaring your grandmother, and you’re inviting Tourette’s?”

“I remember now,” she’d said, a forkful of rice in her mouth. She’d tried mastering chopsticks, but it ended up with her smearing garlic and grease down the front of her blouse. She’d gone with a fork ever since, “you were off in Mexico with Red. Lord Tourette’s went with me to visit her in the home for Mother’s Day.”

“Is this the time she had a heart attack?”

“No. that was another time. To my surprise, she adored him.”

Blue couldn’t imagine someone as old and stuffy as that woman adoring anyone, but Pink had spoken with complete sincerity.

“How?”

Pink shrugged, “I guess she finds him funny. It helps that he’s adorable when he’s not swearing like a crazy person.”

LT’s adorableness was not to be trifled with. Blue’d shrugged and went back to his noodles.

He had a quick shower, just long enough to wash the sweat from his skin and the grime from his hair. He towelled himself off and dressed, fitting himself into the clothes in the bag. He felt uncomfortable in these clothes, and he couldn’t help feeling like a child dressed for picture day when he looked in the mirror. Nothing he could do about it now. He put on his belt and did up the laces on his freshly-polished shoes. Everyone else would be looking formal, so at least he wouldn’t be the odd one out.

Tourette’s was in the entrance hall when he stepped out of the bedroom, and he gave a meek wave when he caught his eye.

“Oh,” LT gave a breathy little gasp and flounced over to Blue, “don’t you just look scrumptious in that outfit!”

“Thanks,” Blue replied, giving him a smile. “You look good, too.”

They took their stations, glasses in hand, and the guests began pouring in. Blue was hugged, pinched, scrutinised, kissed, and as the ultimate form of punishment, given a slap on the ass by one of Pink’s Aunts. His cheeks reddened, and the group of clucking women laughed around him.

“Look, you’re embarrassing him,” one, and looking closer, she appeared to be the only one of them who hadn’t pre-drank. “Thank you, dearie, for the champagne.”

“Pink has such a lovely family,” commented LT, once they’d moved from the entrance hall.

“Uh, yeah,” said Blue, still a little shocked, “she does.”

“Hard to handle. Where’s her grand-CUNT? I haven’t seen her all day.”

Speak of the devil, the doorbell rang. Blue opened it with one hand, struggling to manage everything. Tourette’s helped him, and Pink’s grandmother rolled in.

“Sweetheart,” she cooed to LT, who have her a pair of kisses on the cheek, “how’s my darling?”

Blue toned out their conversation, and focused on looking at the woman and the sour looking man pushing her wheelchair. She was dressed exactly how a woman like her would be dressed, beige pantsuit, nude shoes, red lipstick, and a thick rope of pearls around her neck. She squinted at Blue when she saw him, and the grandfather rolled her closer. Not knowing what else to do, he leaned down towards her and shook her hand.

“I’m Blue,” he said, and the sourness of her features did nothing to quell his stress, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Come here, boy,” she demanded. She didn’t respond to what he said, and so he leaned closer.

She grabbed him by the suit jacket and pulled him close to her face. His heart stopped, and he attempted to pull away. Her stony grip held him in place, and he could smell the unmistakable stench of ‘old’.

“Promise me you won’t hurt her.”

It took a moment for Blue’s panicking mind to register she meant, but he nodded, quickly mumbling out, “I promise. I love her. I wouldn’t hurt her sopleaseletmego.”

She let him go, and he stumbled back, catching his breath. She smiled at him the way she smiled at LT clasping her hands together as if she wasn’t a horror-granny three seconds before.

“Good,” she said. It was sweet, but he could see a glint of warning in her eye, “now hand me some bubbly, deary. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”


	5. Poorly Timed Weed

The rest of the shower went alright from there. As the groom, Blue wasn’t really supposed to be a part of the festivities, so he sat in the background eating delicate rolled up sandwiches and lemon tarts as Pink opened gifts with the guests in the other room. She came back about an hour before the guests were supposed to leave, giggling and with a crown of wrapping paper on her head. Blue looked at her, puzzled.

“It’s a tradition, apparently,” she explained, still laughing as she poured herself a glass of wine, “I kinda just think people are playing a prank on me.”

“I mean, as crowns go, you look pretty royal,” he joked, and Pink gave him one of those smiles.

“Thanks!” She said, giving him a little bow, but turned back to the party.

The guests started leaving two or three hours after that, saying their goodbyes and giving Pink a kiss. Blue gave them a wave, or a hug, and tried to remember names. The loud chatter dulled, and caterers packed up their dishes, glasses, and tables. Once they had cleared out, only a couple guests remained.

Blue leaned towards Pink as she closed the door behind an elderly couple.

“When do you think Red and Stacey will show up?”

Pink shrugged.

“Who knows? Maybe they forgot or were too bored to come.” She walked past him, a proud smile on her face, “either way, this bridal shower was a total success, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah?” Blue didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing, “you think so?”

“I know so.” She kissed him on the cheek, and he smiled at her. “Thank you for all your help, baby. I know the past couple of weeks have been stressful, but this was really fun.”

“You’re welcome. I had a little fun myself.”

They walked back to the remaining guests, and continued easy conversation.

                About an hour later, Red and Stacey arrived with a bang. And by bang, I mean that they literally uncorked champagne as they walked through the door, spraying it everywhere.

“Yo!” Red shouted, turning his hat backward, “let’s get this party started.”

Blue got up from his spot on the couch, grabbing the bottle from Red’s hands.

“Stop spilling champagne on the floor,” he said, angry, but then said, “Thanks for bringing this, though.”

Red gave him a hearty slap on the back (ouch), and he and Stacey stumbled into the hallway.

“You’re welcome, dude. Where’s your girl?”

Pink appeared behind Blue, and was strangely calm, considering everything.

"Hey, guys. Glad you could come." She gave Stacey a hug and ushered her through the kitchen. “We’re setting up on the balcony.”

Pink was still holding a wine glass, though she hadn’t drunk much from the look of it. She plopped herself down on the deck, leaning up against the slatted bars. Stacey followed closely behind. She was actually drunk, but managed to sit up against Pink without spilling prosecco everywhere. The remaining guests followed, and Blue sat on the other side of Pink, avoiding Red’s eye. Blue leaned over to look through the bars, and the high risers lit up the otherwise dark sky. Traffic and sirens could be heard below. He turned back to the group.

“So,” Stacy drawled out the o sound and reached into her purse. _This can’t be good_ , Blue thought to himself, and watched as she pulled out a couple blunts, sealed in a sandwich bag. _Yep,_ he thought again, _this isn’t good._

Orange looked horrified, and stood up.

“I think it’s getting late, Pink. Thank you so much for having me.” She gave Pink a hug, and scurried off, followed by two of Pink’s friends. Blue watched them go barefoot, carrying their heels in their hands.

“Who’s ready for the real party to start?” Stacy didn’t looked fazed at the waning group, and ripped open the bag, digging through her purse for a lighter.

Red whooped and hollered, and anxiety bubbled up in Blue’s throat. He looked at Pink, who actually looked calm. She held out her hand, gesturing for the blunt.

“Thatta girl!” Stacy yelled, loud enough to make Blue wince. He watched in horror, as Pink, in her pearls and heels and blonde hair pulled back in an immaculate bun, took the joint in her mouth and leaned towards the light. Stacey talked her through it, telling her when to breathe in, and when she finally took her first pull, she made a face. She breathed out, and coughed violently into her elbow. Red just laughed.

“I remember the first time you coughed like a little bitch,” he said to Blue, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “They grow up so fast.”

Blue felt his cheeks burn as the group giggled. He rubbed Pink’s back as she inhaled again. The end turned a glowing orange, illuminating her face in the dark. She held the smoke for a moment, and devolved into coughs again.

“It helps if you don’t pull so hard,” offered Stacy, “now gimme.” Pink, still trying to catch her breath, passed it over to Stacey. She took two long breaths, leaning back before blowing out the smoke with a sigh.

“Fuck, that’s nice.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave a wink to Pink. Blue frowned at them. He wasn’t always the greatest at paying attention, but it did seem weird how close they were. When Pink first met Stacey, she hated her as much as she hated Red. Now, they seemed to get along great. They got along so great that Pink was willing to let her hair down and pass a joint around a circle. Since when was that something she did? No one else seemed to think this was strange. Maybe it was just him.

Stacey passed it to Red, who pulled long and hard. Blue watched him blow out a stream of smoke, then steal and extra drag.

“That’s cheating!” Pink pointed a manicured nail at Red, who took another toke just to spite her. Her voice had a slight croak in it, but she went on anyways, “two tokes and pass.”

“Coughers don’t get a say!” Red retorted, blowing smoke in her direction, “seventh rule of getting fucked.”

“With an ass like that, you’d better know about getting fucked,” Stacey sassed. Beige giggled behind her hands, and Pink snorted. Blue rolled his eyes.

Though Blue’d had more than his fair share of joints, he also hadn’t smoked in a good six months, and hadn’t felt this high in a year at least. They passed around a second joint, then a third, and Blue let himself relaxing into the feeling. His vision bubbled outwards, bending around him like a snow globe. He looked over to Pink and they shared a glance, and he leaned all the way onto the floor. She followed suit, but rested her head on his chest, and he could smell the sweetness of her shampoo, feel the warmth bleeding through his expensive shirt.

He felt a slight prickliness on the back of his neck, and he scratched it. When it didn’t disappear, he looked around.

Red was staring at him silently, and the thick cloud around his brain didn’t let him look away. They shared a moment together, and Blue just looked away. Pink rustled underneath him, obviously fuzzy herself.

He focused on the feeling of the concrete underneath him, hyper attentive to the grooves and ridges sticking into his fingers. It was like he’d never felt ground before, certainly not like this: cold and solid, slightly scratchy beneath the weight of his hands.

“So, like,” Beige began, and when he was this high, lying on his back and staring at the stars, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her, “do you think the universe cares about us?”


	6. Like, totally mind-blowing, man!

“Why would you think the universe cares about us? Are you talking about a god or something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Just something. Do you think it cares about us?”

“Fuck no,” Stacey’s eyes were turning red, and her voice betrayed just how fucked up she was, but she lit up another joint. “Nothing cares about us, we’re on our own.”

“I disagree.” Pink’s voice cut in, a little sloppy. Blue knew this was not a conversation to have while high, but the world was moving too slowly, and he felt uncomfortable opening his mouth. For now, he was happy to just keep quiet. Distantly, at the back of his mind, he realized he had never talked to Pink about this before. Well, they’d talked about her going to church with her parents, but nothing more than a toss-away comment about how she ‘didn’t do that anymore.” God, how had they not talked about this before?

Pink cut off his thoughts. He was overthinking this, and he could already feel some anxiety building up in his chest.

“Maybe it’s not a god, maybe it’s not the universe, but I feel like we do have a reason for existing.”

“Where does your meaning come from, then?” Beige inserted herself back into the conversation, and the group hummed before thinking of a response. Blue had had these kinds of conversations before, ones that felt important and meaningful in the moment, but once sober were regarded as stupid. Even knowing this, he felt himself pulled into it, as terrible and badly planned as it was.

“I don’t know what meaning there is in life, but I know it’s there.” Pink sounded so sure of herself, and if he were being honest with himself, Blue was a little jealous of her surety. Fuck. How could there be any meaning in life, especially when everything seemed to point to a cold, empty universe? Red cut in next.

“The only meaning I care about is coke, booze, and titties. Nothing fucking matters, so why not just have fun and do whatever you want?”

Blue rolled his eyes. Of course Red thought that. If this was his justification for being a total dick all the time, he really needed a wakeup call. Or, better yet, a good punch in the cock.

“Your life sounds empty to me if that’s the only meaning you can find.” Pink responded. Beige nodded with her, adding, “There has to be something else, right?”

Red scoffed at that, and Stacey jumped in.

“Your life sounds empty,” she countered, “because you’re looking for something you’re not gonna find, girl. Why not cut loose and make the most of it before we die?”

Beige and Pink looked at each other, thinking for a moment. Clumsily, Pink smacked Blue in the arm, looking at him with foggy eyes.

“Blue, back me up here,” she said, and he gulped, “what do you think?”

Oh god. What did he think? His mind tried to work through the question, but it was unreasonably difficult. Fuck. Wasn’t getting high supposed to be about forgetting the things he didn’t want to think about? On one hand, he had to agree with Red. Where was the proof of any meaning beyond what he saw? The stars above him looked cold and uncaring. On the other hand, what was the point of working his whole life, going to school, getting married? Believing that meant admitting he’d been working for nothing. Blue’s throat constricted a little at that thought.

Shit. They were still looking at him expectantly. He shrugged, and pushed down his anxiety.

“I, uh, I don’t know. I’m sitting this one out.”

Red groaned, slamming his head down on the concrete. “Fuck dude. Really? We’re all fucking high as shit and you can’t defend your position? You literal pussy.”

“I second that motion!” announced Stacey, throwing up her hands. Pink smirked and looked at her with her eyebrows raised, and with her relaxed eyes, it made her face look comical.

“You second the motion to call Blue a pussy?”

Stacey seemed to put great thought into the question. Finally, she responded.

“Yes.”

Pink giggled, and threw her arms around Blue. Her scent was ten times as strong up close, and

“I also second, fuck, I mean third the motion.” She mumbled into Blue’s collar.

“What the fuck? Why?” He felt betrayed, but Pink only gave him a smooch on the neck. His stomach fluttered a bit, and he pulled her closer.

“It’s okay. You’re my pussy; that’s what matters.”

Blue rolled his eyes. He needed to go to bed.


	7. Canada as Promised

The next couple of days were spend packing, booking flights, and making sure the apartment wouldn’t burn down while they were gone.

The week blurred together so quickly Blue suddenly found himself at the airport with Red, not exactly sure how he’d gotten there. He turned back to Pink, who gave him a hug and passed him his suitcase.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered, “to be back for the dress rehearsal.” Blue nodded, and felt a weird little knot build up in his stomach. He turned back to Red, who was wearing his shades inside like an asshole.

“I won’t. I love you. Have fun on your girl’s cruise.”

“Love you too, Baby Blue. And don’t worry; I will.”

And then she kissed him on the cheek and was gone.

Even with Red besides him, the airport still felt daunting. In fact, having Red there besides him probably made things worse. He turned, pulling both their tickets and passports. He grabbed Red’s hand and pulled him along as he walked. He looked at Red, who didn’t have anything on him but a backpack. Blue lifted an eyebrow.

“Where’s your bag?”

Red shrugged. “I figured if I needed something else, I’d just borrow some of your stuff.”

“You know we’re gonna be gone for like, three weeks, right?” He didn’t bother commenting on how Red expected Blue to just fork over his things when he couldn’t even trust him on his own.

Red shrugged again, and Blue felt the edge of his eyebrow twitch. His nonchalance was starting to irritate Blue, and they’d only been in the airport for five minutes. They walked towards security, passing a poster detailing what couldn’t be taken on the plane and showing a wicked looking man with crossed arms.

_Have you been tasered today_? The poster asked, adding a slogan at the bottom, _USA Borders: kicking the shit out of your rights…. In style!_

“Red,” he began, and the other man turned towards him. Blue looked him in the eye. “I know this is going to be difficult, but we need to get onto the plane and through the flight without being arrested.”

Red nodded sagely, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Understood. I’ll follow you. You’ve always been better at not being arrested than me.”

Blue sighed. That was true. He kept walking.

“If,” Red began, and Blue stopped walking, “you promise to blow me.”

Blue glared at him, but he also felt the edges of his ears turn hot. This was not the time and place for this.

“Fuck you.”

“That works too,” Red responded, and now his eyes were made entirely of mischief, “but it’s either that or I might cause some trouble at security.”

Red looked serious, and he wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, to piss off, to go jump in a lake.

He glanced at the poster on the wall.

“Fine,” he gritted through his teeth, “I promise to blow you if you aren’t a fucktard through the airport.”

Red grinned, turning his hat to the side. He slung an arm around Blue’s shoulder, so hard it hurt. Blue grimaced, and that only made Red grin harder.

“See? Was that so hard? Let’s go be boring citizens!”

          Thankfully – and Blue actually thanked any gods that may or may not exist – they got through security without a fuss. And also thankfully, Red also kept quiet the whole time, not even taking the time to crack a joke or hit on the guards working the x-ray machine. What he did do was give repeated, smiling glances, occasionally wiggling his eyebrows to Blue throughout the entire process.

You know what? Fuck it. They’d make it on the plane. With all the shit Blue’d gone through, he could deal with this.

His plan started to fall apart once they boarded the plane. As soon as they found their seats, had sat down, and shoved their backpacks under the seats, Blue could see the restlessness in Red. He looked tight, like a rubberband stretched too far, and he kept bouncing his knee up and down like he couldn’t keep all his energy together. His fingernails drummed on the armrest, and after a minute Blue caught his wrist.

“Stop that. You’re being annoying.”

“This is a really small space,” retorted Red, “give me a break.” Blue sighed, and though Red stopped fidgeting, he looked nothing like someone at ease.

He decided to pull out the big guns, remembering the conversation he’d had with Pink just before they left for the airport.

          “My mom used to do this to me and my sisters on long car rides,” Pink had begun. “Just crush up some plain Gravol and mix it into a sandwich. Has to be something smelly: like tuna or a meat with sauce. Mix it in and he’ll fall asleep and hopefully stay that way until you land.”

Blue had stared at the bottle, slightly concerned.

“You want me to drug him? Isn’t that, like, really illegal?”

“Remember the time he knocked you out when you had a 104 degree fever and forced you to go to a rager with him?”

He’d remembered.

“Hand me the Gravol.”

          The weird dinging sound went off as the plane took position for take-off, and he glanced around him, as if someone would know what he was up to just by looking. He dug into his backpack, and Red eyed the crinkled brown paper bag he pulled out.

“Is that booze?”

Blue gave him a look.

“You know you can’t take liquids on airplanes, right? Like, at all?”

“Whatever, dude. What’s in the bag?”

He pulled out two items, an orange, and a freshly made burrito. Even when he knew what was in it, it smelled delicious. He’d been sure to put tons of spices to mask the taste of the gravol, and by fuck did he put a lot in. He could see Red’s eyes widen.

“Well, I was going to eat it by myself, but since you weren’t a dick, you can have it.”

Red’s face broke into a smile, as if the only thing that could bring him pure joy was Mexican food.

“Thanks, man! Seriously, this is the best.” He grabbed the package, and as he unwrapped the tinfoil, Blue started with peeling the orange. It would be a long flight, after all. They were both tucked in, and the plane took position for lift off. He could see the airport outside, sun baking the concrete and sucking all the moisture out of the grass until it stayed stiff and straw-like. He couldn’t say he’d ever been to Canada before, and outside of little trips to Mexico, he hadn’t really ever left his country for much longer than a week? Would he miss LA? He guessed it didn’t matter. After three weeks, he’d be in Vancouver, and a week after that, he and Pink would be married and off to a Hawaiian honeymoon (cliché, he knew, but Pink had never been and insisted on experiencing it with Blue).

Halfway through the orange, Red had finished his burrito, and Blue watched his right leg start to bounce up and down again. He never liked to stay in one place at a time, and the cramped space probably didn’t help anything. Blue waited, and Red's head began to nod. After half an hour, he was passed out, and Blue let himself relax for the flight.

          With the roaring white noise of the plane, sore ears from the altitude, and being jostled from the landing, they finally touched down. Blue reached over Red, who was still snoring gently, and tugged up the window, almost blinding himself with sunlight. The plane dinged again, and everyone stood up at once, obviously in a hurry to get out of their confined spaces. Blue hung back, not wanting to wake Red before he really needed to. He pulled out his backpack from the seat in front of him, making sure everything was in its proper place. Their passports were still there, he had his wallet, and the snacks he’d bought at the overpriced airport shop.

He stretched, and his spine popped in several locations. Red had shifted over and had started drooling on his jacket. He grimaced, and shook him.

“N-huh,” was the reply, and Red blinked his eyes open, obviously feeling fuzzy.

“Get up, asshole,” he said, and took it upon himself to grab his and Red’s backpacks, making sure their passports were both there, “we’re in Canada.”

“Oh shit,” Red responded, wiping some spit off the side of his mouth.

          Surprisingly, Winnipeg wasn’t as much of a shithole as he was expecting it to be. He’d just heard so much complaining about the winters. When they arrived, the sun was shining, dotted with the odd cloud. Red was still tired from the flight, or more likely, the burrito, and fell asleep again in the cab. He was so still, mouth hung open, and head slung back, Blue was concerned he had accidentally poisoned his friend. When they had arrived, he poked Red hard in the ribs, and got a drug-hazed glare.

“Jesus fuck, man.”

“I’m just seeing if you’re alive,” Blue said, hands raised. He gestured outside the window. “Plus, we’re here.”

They checked in and found their room without issue, and Blue watched Red physically try to wake himself up. He disappeared into the bathroom, and stretched as he came out, ready to unpack and kick his shoes off. Red hadn't crashed on the bed like he'd expected. Instead, he slung a jacket over his shoulder.

“Where’re you going?” Blue asked. He saw Red rummaging through his backpack, pulling out a wallet, his hands fumbling. 

“I’ve been sober for twenty-four hours,” the man mumbled, “I’m finding a bar.”

Blue knew it was pointless to argue, and besides, he was far too restless to drag a reluctant sack of meat around the city.

“Whatever, man,” he responded, and turned around to shove a water bottle and a map in his backpack. Red didn’t reply, but the door shut behind him. He sighed, and finished getting his things together. He was going to enjoy being here if it killed him.

          He asked a couple questions at the front desk, and figured out a plan. When he walked out the front, sliding doors opened to a hot day, the sun raining down. It was a sticky heat, the kind that beat the heat into you. Not that he was complaining. He was used to this kind of weather, but just hadn’t expected it. Wasn’t Canada supposed to be cold? Like, with polar bears, and hockey? Blue shrugged and moved on. It was summer, after all. The polar bears were probably hibernating or something.

He did all the tourist-y things he thought required of him: He visited the Art Gallery, saw sculptures and paintings he didn’t understand, and a temporary exhibit of art done by aboriginal artists. He bought a postcard for Pink, of a painting she’d probably be able to explain to him. Afterwards, he found a bike shop and rented one for the afternoon. The shop keep gave him half-hearted directions to the bike paths, and only when he was halfway there did he notice his front tire was a little flat.

The front desk attendant had told him about this path, along with some other attractions he could visit. The path didn’t go on for long, but took long enough to register as an actual bike ride.

The city to his right, and a dirty looking river to his left, he turned up the gears a little more than necessary, and rode until his lungs burned. The air was clean, and whizzing past trees, and green, and old-looking bridges over the river cleared his head. The trail twisted, turning between dirt, and gravel, and concrete. Several times he narrowly avoided violent collision with another biker or careless child, but he kept biking. He biked until his legs throbbed, and until he could feel a patch of sweat appear on the back on his shirt. At the end of the path was the Forks, and he toppled off of his bike, panting, and locked it to a fence with shaking hands. God, his body was pathetic. He didn’t think he’d worked out since he and Red went on a drunken hike through the woods, not that that had been particularly healthy either.

The Forks were a little underwhelming, but were charming enough for an afternoon distraction. Blue had a burger at a restaurant by the square, and since he was feeling adventurous, ordered a Canadian beer. The meal seemed expensive, but he guessed it was a tourist area, and there was also the exchange to figure out. He bought an ice cream and sat outside the market area, and put his change back in his wallet, glad he had decided to get a couple hundred bucks before they left California.

That was another thing. What was the deal with the money here? It was decorative and all the amounts were different colours, like he’d raided a monopoly box. Also, it was made of plastic, and that felt wrong in his hands.

The ride back was a little harder, with all the food in his stomach, not to mention his legs were still sore from the journey there. He had to stop halfway through the ride, feeling the full force of his horrible, horrible lifestyle. Jesus, did he need to work out. Maybe after all the marriage stuff was over, he’d think about taking Pink to the gym. She’d talked to him about couple’s yoga, too, which at this point, might actually be a good thing for the both of them.

“Hey, could you take a picture of us?” A voice broke him from his thoughts, and he turned around, still embarrassingly sweaty, to see a group of three people, all in brightly coloured sportswear.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He said, and pushed the kickstand down with his foot. The woman, dressed in a neon green shirt, smiled as she handed the camera to him, and quickly went back to her group.

“Thank you so much. Can you get us in front of Red River, please?”

“I didn’t know it was called that,” he mused as he snapped a couple photos, and one of their face’s lit up.

“Oh, are you a tourist?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m actually from California.”

“Sweet, man. I’m from Vancouver myself, but my wife and her sister,” he gestured to the two girls beside him, “they’re born and raised Winnipeg girls.”

He handed the camera back to them, and was surprised at the easy flow of conversation.

“Cool. I’m driving to Vancouver over the next couple of weeks. I’m marrying my girlfriend in Stanley Park.”

The girls did a collective, “Aww!” and the guy chuckled, “doing a road trip to celebrate your last few moments of freedom?”

He shook the man’s hand with a grin, “you know it! By the way, I didn’t get your names. I’m Blue.”

          Despite his exhaustion, he was in a good mood when he got back to the hotel. Jet lag was hitting him, and he hadn’t actually gotten any sleep on the plane, so he rode the elevator up to his floor, humming a lazy tune. Red wasn’t there when he got back. He didn’t really care. He flipped off the lights, pulled off his pants and shirt, and slipped into bed.

You know what? He could do this. Red wouldn’t ruin this trip. They’d see some sights, probably get drunk a lot, and drive across Canada. Pink would laugh at the clean version of his stories, and they’d live happily ever after.

Blue fell asleep.


	8. Make the Most of it

Red had made his way back to the room sometime in the night, silent enough that Blue hadn't noticed him. He heard snores coming from Red's bed, and when Blue woke up and looked around, he noticed Red'd been sober enough to take off his shoes before falling asleep. Good. It meant he wouldn't be such a bother to manage. They had more than enough time to start driving, but Blue wanted to see the road for a change. Besides, the hotel room was expensive, and while Pink’s family was paying for everything, he still felt guilty

The little red clock that rested on the bedside table blinked, 11:00, and he grumbled to himself about sleeping for far too long. It didn’t really matter, but he still marched over to the window, agitated, and threw open the curtains.

“Why would you do this to me?” Red moaned, still half asleep. Blue had to stop himself from laughing, because he sounded genuinely betrayed by the sun piercing into the room. He walked over to the frustrated bundle of blankets, and sat on the bed besides him.

“Come on,” he announced, pulling back the covers enough to reveal a scowl, “rise and shine.”

“I hate you, and I’m going to bite your hand.”

“Awesome,” replied Blue, throwing on a flannel over his t-shirt, “you can do it at breakfast. They have free continental here.”

Red perked up at the sound of that, and ten minutes later, they were seated at a table, with poorly made eggs, and overcooked bacon piled up on their plates. Well, piled up on Red’s plate. After gaining weight and his embarrassing bike ride yesterday, Blue decided to cut back a little. Halfway through a sausage, he pointed to Red’s plate with a fork.

“How on earth do you not get fat?”

“Why would I ever get fat?”

“I don’t know,” he rolled his eyes, “maybe from that heart attack on a plate you’re eating.”

“Nah, I’m way too active for that,” and he wiggled his eyebrows, even going so far as to elbow Blue in the sides, “if you know what I mean.”

“Whatever man,” he cut off eye contact, and quickly came up with another topic, “we’re picking up the car in an hour or two.”

“We’re starting today?”

“Yep.”

“Man! I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. Fuck, I can’t wait to see a beaver or some shit.”

Red’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Blue smiled in response.

“Forget beavers, man. I wanna see a fucking polar bear.”

“Aw!” Red sighed, “polar bears? I love this country already.”

 

               Neither of them had much to pack, and checkout went quick. They caught a cab to the rental place, and stepped into a depressing gray room, with shabby flooring, and buzzing industrial lights. 

He walked up to the counter, where a bored man sat waiting at the desk. He looked at the two with disdain, and immediately went back to typing, as if they weren’t there.

“Hey,” Blue started, hoping to break the ice, “what do you have for a couple newbies in your country, eh?”

He looked at them, giving Blue such an incredulous glance that his smile fell from his face. _Okay,_ he thought, _not the nicest of guys._

“License, insurance, and two pieces of I.D., please.”

“Here you go.”

“You’re already in the system, someone called ahead, so this won’t take long.” Blue nodded, mainly happy just to get out of here before he died a little from the stale situation. “We have multiple kinds of cars available.”

Red tugged on his sleeve like a child demanding attention, and Blue whirled around and raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think they have monster trucks?” The gleam in his eyes caught Blue by surprise, but his eyebrow went higher.

“I seriously doubt they have monster trucks.”

“Ask them if they have monster trucks.”

“Red,” he started, but the man grabbed him by both shoulders, looking deep into his eyes with a grave expression.

“Ask them,” Red demanded. He let go, and Blue turned back to the counter, with a dry expression on his face.

“Do you have monster trucks?”

The clerk responded equally dry, and he gave a stare that was so bored, so apathetic, so life hating, that it seemed to suck a little bit of joy from Blue's very being.

“No. We don’t have monster trucks.”

Blue nodded.

“Cool. We’ll take the prius, please.”

 

                   Blue swung the set of keys around his index finger as he stepped out into the lot. They made a jingling noise, and he hummed a little to himself in the sunshine. The sun bore down, but not with the oppressive, blistering heat they’d get in California in the summer. It was just warm, and the air smelled fresh, and the two of them were finally on their adventure.

“Can I drive?”

“Jesus, no. I’d really rather not have a repeat of last time.” He shuddered a little. It had taken him months to get over what he’d seen.

“Come on, I promise to be careful.” He gave Blue an innocent face, but Blue shook his head. For him, promises mean very, very little.

“Whoever has the keys drives. I have the keys. I’m driving.” He opened the door, once they had shoved their baggage into the trunk, and slipped into the driver’s seat. Red huffed, but sat shotgun.

“Can I at least choose the music?”

“Fine, but if you play dubstep, I’m kicking you out of the car.”

“Yes,” hissed Red, satisfied, and reached for the knob.

“To the start of our adventure,” he yelled, once rock music had started to boom from the speakers.

“To our adventure!” Blue replied, and they high-fived just as Blue swerved onto the highway.

 

                    Red had turned on the radio, which so far had been hit and miss. Once about an hour passed, they both went silent, just listening to whatever came on next. Most of it was classic rock, or well known eighties music, intermixed with the occasional pop song, but after all of that came a song that Blue instantly recognised. It was soft and gentle and familiar in the way that only songs attached to memories can be.

The music washed over him. It ran down his neck and swirled in his brain and once he started thinking about it, he could only remember the song in the context of him and Pink. More specifically, he remembered the first time he heard it, and the conversation they’d had together.

He remembered their time of the couch together, and how Pink had danced over to the speakers set up on her glass coffee table. Not an inexpensive Ikea-bought one, used for liquor more than anything else, but a real coffee table. Grown up furniture, Blue called it. And the song played, and he remembered liking it. He remembered how she sat beside him on the couch, and the way the cushions dipped beneath her weight, making her lean into him just a little.

He remembers her hair, at that time cut in a short bob, just long enough to fall into her eyes. She was typing some email with intense concentration, and Blue just stared at her for a minute, until she caught his eye.

"Is something on your mind?" She was still mid-thumbstroke.

"Uh, no, I was just wondering, do you ever think about what your life would be like if you did something different?"

She tilted her head, as if his question was somehow puzzling, and put down her phone.

"Do you?"

He somehow hadn't stuttered.

"I don't know. Maybe."

“I do, sometimes," she began, and once he heard her honesty, he wanted to change his answer, "I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. Not taking care of the little kids, because I do not have the patience for that. I wanted to teach high-schoolers. Probably something like math, maybe physics or something.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Now that he thought about it, Pink would make a great teacher. She was patient, intelligent, and just caring enough to be empathetic, but still never stood for nonsense.

“I don’t know. I guess I just fell into finances.”

She dropped his gaze for a moment, and Blue watched her run a finger around the edge of her phone case.

“No,” she said, finally, “that’s a lie. To be honest, my parents talked me out of it. Said that life wouldn’t be easy with a teacher’s salary, that I was wasting my talents.”

“You are good at your job,” he confessed, and she laughed. Pink being good at her job was like a surgeon being good at medicine; you don’t put eight years of your life into something unless you have a knack for it.

“And you’re good at flattery.” She booped him on the nose with such tenderness that his teeth almost rotted out. Even though he swatted away her hand, and turned red with embarrassment, he couldn’t help knowing that really, he didn’t mind it so much.

There was silence after that, but before he reached over to choose another song, or maybe check his emails, a thought came to him.

“Have you ever considered going back?” he asked, “just taking a couple years off to get whatever you need for the job?”

“Nah,” she answered, without any hesitation, “I’m happy here, with you.” She tried to boop his nose again, but this time he caught her finger. “Besides, I have a life here, I’m used to a certain lifestyle. I was supposed to have my whole life planned out.” She counted on her fingers. “Work, get married, have some kids. The whole teacher thing would mess with that.”

“And,” she added, with a half-serious expression on her face, “while I do love my sisters, we never got over competing to be the best child, and I’m really not ready to lose that battle quite yet. So the teacher thing? While great, I really can’t see it happening. You gotta make sacrifices somewhere.”

“That’s true,” Blue conceded. As lame as Red said he was, he really had gotten used to the party lifestyle, having adventures, getting far too drunk and seeing where disaster took him. He’d given all that up to live with Pink, had taken a boring, stable life, and left insanity behind. In the moment, he’d thought he’d made the right decision.

 

                  In the car, way after the song had finished, he wasn’t so sure. They were free, speeding along the highway twenty kilometres above the speed limit, music blasting, grassy fields blurring past them and disappearing in an instant. Red had cracked the window open, and wind had rushed in, almost overpowering the music, and blowing through the car with so much force that Red had to clutch his hat to keep it from falling off.

He’d been so sure. Why had he been so sure? It was like he’d finally remembered the taste of freedom and couldn’t go back to something so stifling.

“You gotta make sacrifices somewhere,” he remembered. And he couldn’t give up Pink. She was the one thing he was absolutely holding on to. He looked outside, at the green farmland, the blue sky, and he knew he’d give it up. _Might as well make the most of it when I can,_ he thought to himself, and relaxed a bit more into his seat.

“Yo, how fast do you think this thing can go?” Red hollered. Blue gave him a toothy grin.

“Let’s find out,” he said, and he pushed down the pedal, sending them lurching back into the seats.

“Faster! Come on, faster!” Cried Red between bursts of crazed laughter.

_Might as well make the most of it while I’m here_ , he thought, and complied.


	9. Part Nine: This is a Disaster

They’d been driving for about four hours when Blue’s eyes were starting to feel dry, and a slight headache had started to build at the back of his head. He turned to Red, who looked half-asleep, glazed eyes gazing out the window.

“Let’s stop for something,” he said, breaking a silence that had started when they’d gotten tired of music. Red blinked away the mist from his eyes, and sat up straighter.

 “Finally. I’m fucking starving.”

They pulled into another family diner. Something that looked homey and old, and probably got most of its service from truckers, bikers, and families on vacation.

“This look okay?” Blue asked, and Red nodded.

“Yeah. Looks great.”

The door jingled when they stepped in, and a waitress who looked far too old, and far too annoyed to give them the time of day. Blue smiled at her, but she just turned to the back.

“Janet! You got customers!” She yelled, and a women, slightly frazzled, came running.

“Hi,” said Janet, clearly out of breath, “just for two, right?”

“Yup.”

She gathered up two menus and motioned for them to follow her.

“Hi. Can I get you two some waters, or something?”

Blue raised his hand.

“Just some water, and two cups of coffee.”

“Also do you have pancakes?” Red asked.

“Yeah,” she flipped open a notepad, “do you, uh, want anything on them?”

“Just syrup and bacon, extra Canadian.”

She looked at him strangely, but then shrugged.

“Sure. I’ll be right back with the drinks.”

“Thanks,” Red called after her, and then turned to Blue.

“I still don’t understand how you don’t get fat eating all that junk,” he said, while grabbing a bunch of crumpled maps from his backpack (that he definitely didn’t shove down after getting frustrated), “especially since the only exercise you do is running from the cops.”

“Running from the cops is better than the zero running you do. Also, sex burns a lot of calories.”

Blue rolled his eyes, and their coffees came. He nodded at Janet, and took a sip. The coffee was sour, and he wasn’t the greatest fan of black, but he needed the caffeine.

He splayed out everything on the table, making sure to not to spill his coffee. He had his big map, his smaller map, and his phone for reference, not to mention a guidebook for what route was best. He also took out some pens, for marking down the roads and towns they needed to pass through. Red looked at all of this as if he’d just discovered the concept of planning.

“You’re so organized,” the awe in his voice was so sincere Blue was tempted to laugh, but he was reminded of their disaster in Mexico.

“Well, someone has to be, so we don’t end up in fucking Greenland.”

“I like that about you, always thinking ahead.”

Blue smiled into his mug.

                And they were back in their places. Red would say something stupid, and Blue would pretend to not find it funny. Red’s pancakes came, and Blue stole some bites from his plates, after they had gotten heavy with syrup. When the waitress wasn’t looking, Red took out a flask of something and poured a healthy amount into their coffees. Blue didn’t even complain, just kept drinking.

“You’re excited for the new season, right?” he asked, mentioning some stupid show when it came up.

“I haven’t even finished the last one,” he put a finger up, cutting off Red just as he was opening his mouth, “and don’t you dare spoil anything.”

When Janet filled up their coffees, Red topped them up. Both of their smiles grew wider, and Blue ate more pancake.

“Hey, I’m not that much of an asshole! You’re gonna love the last two episodes though. Jenna gets way hot.”

“Jenna? She’s kinda…”

“Dumpy? Looks like a potato in a wig?” Blue tried his best not to laugh. It would really just encourage him, but he just ended up snorting into his cup and spilling coffee and whiskey on his lap.

“Fuck.” It was still too hot to drink.

“Wow. Good job,” Red smiled, and Blue only responded with a middle finger.

“She gets like, super hot. Still a mega bitch, though.”

“Can’t all be winners,” Blue responded.

“Truth.”

They were both drunk when they stepped out of the diner, far too full of pancakes for their own good. Red leaned into Blue as they made their way to the car.

“Are we sleeping in the car?” Red asked. He’d drunk through the first flask, and had made his way to the second one.

“Probably. The next motel is like, three hours from here.”

Blue opened the door, but Red shut it with a slam, and pinned him against the side of the car.

They just looked at each other for a second. And Red licked his lips. Blue pretended not to notice.

“Red,” Blue warned, but he was ignored.

“I seem to remember you promised me something.”

Blue glared at him.

“Red.”

And Red kissed him.

He tasted like pancakes and syrup and alcohol and desperation, and Red’s hands reached up to clutch Blue’s chest. Blue breathed him in, and for a moment, considered clutching, and kissing, and being desperate back. It was tempting. Both of their breaths probably tasted like coffee, but his mouth was slick, and hot, and he could blame everything on the whiskey in the coffee. The moment passed quickly. He turned his head away, tearing his mouth from Red’s. Red grunted, trying to capture his mouth again, but Blue shook his head. He had to shove him away hard, and then there was just the heavy breaths between them.

Blue didn’t need to look into his eyes to know that Red was hurt, and confused, with a hint of frustration. He looked at the ground instead.

It felt like an eternity passed, and all he could focus on was Red’s presence in front of me.

“Are you gonna say anything?” Demanded Red, and his voice sounded hoarse. He obviously noticed this, and cleared it himself.

“Yeah,” he replied, “we need to start driving.” He was far too drunk to drive, but he couldn’t take this restlessness and guilt, and he needed to go somewhere.

“Fine,” Red gritted out. He pushed him out of the way, and got into the car. Blue didn’t miss how loud the slam was.

                The drive was awful, the check in was awful, and getting their stuff into the room was awful. Red refused to meet his eyes, and didn't speak to him. Usually the silent treatment meant he was spared from the bullshit, but he didn't feel spared right then. He got away as soon as he put down his bag, and dug his phone out of his pocket, dialling the only number he had in his contacts.

The phone rang a couple times, and Blue's stomach went a little sour with anxiety.

_Jesus Christ, man, please pick up._

She picked up, and said something completely unintelligible, but it was her, and that's what he needed.

"Hey honey, how are you doing?"

He could barely hear her voice. A pounding beat was playing in the background, with sloppy voices alongside it. He strained to hear her, but even with the way she yelled, he could barely make her out.

“Blue!” She drew out the vowel in his name, trailing off for a second, "what're you doing calling this late? You okay?"

“Uh, yeah," he lied, "we’re just heading to the bar, but I had some time to talk. I miss you.” He could hear Stacy’s voice, louder than ever and equally grating.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“My Fiancé, Stacy. You should get one!” She seemed to turn back to him over the phone. “Sorry, you’re at the bar? That’s great, Blue. There’s a club at the ship and I was a little scared at first, but I’m loving it.” Her words were running together.

“Make sure you’re safe. You were never one to go clubbing.”

“Wow, honey. That’s exciting. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Stacey grabbed the phone, and he heard a scuffle, two swear words, and finally drunken breathing.

"What? No, I-" but Stacey interrupted him.

“Saaaaay it!”

“Stacey, give me back the phone.”

“I don’t feel like I’m being heard here,” he mumbled, but then Pink was back on, heavier and low, and no less wasted.

 “When you get to Vancouver I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you. None of that pussy shit. I’m gonna fuck-“ she trailed off, and he pressed his ear closer to the phone, confused, only for her to half-whisper, but mostly-yell, “it’s gonna be kinky and desperate and fucking romantic.”

“Uh, okay. Pink, are you-“

“Okay!” She said, completely ignoring his concerned tone, “love you. Miss you. Bye!”

The line went silent.


	10. Part Ten: This wasn't originally supposed to be a slow burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now justifying my Explicit M/M rating, so that's finally a thing. Hurrah!

The bar was as dark and disgusting, which was wonderful, because he felt equally dark and disgusting. He spotted Red hunched over a couple too many shot glasses in the corner. He avoided his gaze and went directly to the bar.

“Can I have like, seven beers?” He mumbled at the bartender.

“I can get you one beer,” the woman replied, and went to filling him a glass. That was good enough, for now. Blue passed her a bill, and put his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes.

Was he mad at himself? He wasn’t sure. He knew he mad at Red, and being mad at Red was significantly easier than being mad at himself, so he focused on that.

Red was an entitled piece of shit. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with no consideration for anyone else. Red knew he had a job, and yet would burst into Blue’s office and ask him to go out for drinks. Red knew Pink was important to him, and yet he acted like an asshole around her. Red knew Blue was engaged, and he kissed him anyway.

God, he was engaged. This should be a non-issue. And Pink had been less than helpful. Was he mad at Pink too? Probably. This whole thing was her idea, anyway.

By the time he’d chugged down three beers, Red had disappeared with someone. Blue didn’t feel any better.

The guilt was still there, buried down under everything, and on the surface his anger burned hot and powerful. He needed to put a stop to this.

He got up from the bar, gripping the motel key so hard the metal dug grooves into his fingers. When he made it to the parking lot, he half-ran to his room, unlocking it in a flash.

He slammed open the door, and felt a pleasant prickling when he saw two people jump. Red was there with some girl, who he assumed was a prostitute picked up at the bar.

“Jesus, that scared me,” she laughed, but he saw her quickly go back to working on the buttons of his shirt.

“Ignore him. He’s not staying,” Red replied, with a slight line of venom, but then turned and looked directly in Blue’s eyes, “unless he wants to join us.”

"How about it, honey?" her voice was low and sweet. Yup, definitely a prostitute.

Blue couldn’t move. Everything was going wrong, and the two of them were looking at him, expectant.

“Anyways,” Red continued, back with that tone that made Blue’s blood boil, “while he makes his decision, let’s get this party going.” He reached into his back pocket, but instead of the condom Blue expected, Red pulled out a small baggy of white.

“Shit,” Blue closed the door behind him, thinking about all the ways they could be arrested just by being here, “where’d you get that?”

“Does it matter?” Red raised his eyebrows, a clear challenge. He dipped his finger in and snorted a bit off his thumbnail. Offering another small bit to her.

“Have some, sweetheart.” She leant over, and just took the finger into his mouth.

Blue glared at them, but he was stuck. The girl did have nice tits, and just to prove he’d been staring, Red smirked and created a little line on the swell of her breast.

“Anyways, he’s a loser, and’ll miss out on the good shit.”

Blue somehow managed to move again, and found it in himself to march over to their spot on the bed.

Fuck it. Fuck Red. Fuck this. Fuck everything.

“Let me have a line,” he demanded, and Red’s face split open. The woman turned to him, smiling her practiced, sexy smile.

He grabbed her tits with a surprising ferocity, and snorted the line. He threw back his head and gasped. His coherence fell apart, and he was a king.

“Fuck.”

“Good shit, right?” Red was still sitting under the prostitute, grabbing at her tits, teasing around her crotch. He gazed at his fucked up hair, his hat that had fallen beside him, the huge plates of black in his eyes. He found himself staring at Red’s neck, and the sharp adam’s apple. He grabbed Red’s face without thinking, and leaned in to lick at it, biting down to get a taste.

Red did nothing but laugh, “yeah baby! We’re rolling now!” He tried to move down to kiss full on, but Blue growled, holding his head in place. It was difficult to position themselves with a body between them. Feeling slightly crushed, the woman wiggled her way out, sitting on the bed as the two men grappled.

“Are you two just gonna fuck on your own, or am I getting laid and paid?” She didn’t sound impressed. Blue didn’t care.

“Money’s on the bedside table.” Blue said, and he didn’t recognize his own voice. He and red hadn’t broken eye contact, and pinning one of his arms underneath him, another above his head, he continued to bite at Red’s throat. The woman left.

Red took this as a challenge, and grabbed a fistful of Blue’s hair, pulling rough enough to break from his neck. Their mouths clashed together, teeth knocking. The kiss was far too messy and wet to be considered good, but Blue was hard anyways. He ground down into Red.

There were times when Blue could almost forget how inhumanly strong his friend was, and he overestimated his upper hand. Red flipped them easily, and their limbs flailed. He settled on top of him, and slight shivers ran down Blue’s neck as Red brushed the side of his face with his lips.

“I like this new side of you,” he said into the shell of his ear, and Blue couldn’t do much but wiggle underneath him. Was he always this heavy? “It’s almost as if you’re turning into me.”

Blue thought he was going in for another kiss, but instead, he moved down to the flesh of his neck, biting down. The pain hit him like a train, and he yelped, until it diffused and flushed with pleasure.

“Ngh,” he said, intelligently, and Red smiled into his skin, lavishing the spot with his tongue. He bit down, this time at the juncture between neck and shoulder, and Blue’s cock jumped in his jeans. _Don’t come now,_ he thought to himself, _let this last just a little longer._ He pushed the hem of Red’s shirt up, revealing the hot skin of his back. When Red ground down, he answered with a grunt, and Blue chucked the clothing across the room.

For a long, sweltering moment, they just did that. They ground together, scratched, bit, and panted into the darkness. Blue thought he could come any second. Red was everywhere, touching him, but it wasn’t enough. He pushed at Red’s chest, trying to create some space. When Red kept at him, he shoved him off, and Red sat up, looking hurt. His heart stopped at his expression, and a hesitant moment hung between them.

“It’s not that,” he explained, trying to clear the gravel from his throat, “take off your pants.” The moment relaxed.

Red nodded, and shimmied out of his jeans. His underwear was tented at the front, and Blue stared at his body. Lust was coursing through his blood, and the pleasure and excitement and weightlessness was intensified by the drug. He tore his own pants off and dove back into Red. And while the grinding and kissing continued, he reached between them, slipped under fabric, and gripped Red’s cock at the base.

The whimper he got in return filled him with a weird sort of power, and he stopped grinding. He focused his hand, running his thumb across the leaking tip and jacking him like he’d do himself. Red’s mouth hung open, and he panted against Blue’s shoulder, moaning and breathing, and coming undone.

He could sense Red was close, from the way his cock was twitching in his hand, and from years of hearing him fuck other people through the thin walls of their apartment. Just before Red tensed up, Blue stopped his hand, and Red’s breath caught. His hips thrust up with a cry of frustration, but Blue’s hand was gone.

“Fuck, please,” he panted, but Blue looked him in the eye and shook his head.

“Lie down,” he gritted, and pushed Red’s shoulders and somehow managed to climb on top of him and kick off his underwear at the same time. It was awkward, but he managed. He sat on Red's lap, trying to figure out how this was supposed to work, when Red gripped his ass and pulled him down.

“Jesus, you’re such a straight guy,” Red breathed, and Blue laughed at that. He was so hard, and couldn’t wait any longer. He took Red’s mouth again, and they lined themselves up and rutted. It was messy, and they moved awkwardly, sometimes having to stop and reposition themselves. It was good, though, having a warm body just as sloppy and needy as himself.

He was overheating in the stuffy room. And everywhere Red was touching him felt burning, blazing hot. He moved his hips faster, and Red matched his pace, digging his fingers into the meat of his ass.

“Fuck,” said Blue at the pain.

“God,” cried Red into the air.

“Aah,” moaned the two when they changed to a better angle.

When they locked eyes, Blue saw the exact same crazed desperation he felt. He pushed their foreheads together, and kept moving, feeling sweat start to bead down his back, hearing his own grunts come faster and stronger, and-

He came hard, and thrust himself through it. Red was close behind, and he was just making his way through the waves of pleasure when Red threw back his head and added to the mess on their stomachs. 

He fought to catch his breath, and they took a moment, before the sweat and filth and heat got uncomfortable.

“That was a long time coming,” commented Red, while still under him.

“Shut up,” replied Blue, but he was smiling as he rolled off. He used someone’s underwear to clean himself off, and Red did the same. They both probably smelled disgusting, but Blue felt loose and satisfied. He figured he'd take a shower when he gave a fuck.

His anger had all burnt off, and his guilt had disappeared under waves of pleasure and lethargy. He didn’t bother getting up and going to the other bed. He just slipped under the covers and closed his eyes, feeling Red settle down next to him.


	11. Part Eleven: AAAAA

Red was still sleeping when Blue got up, feeling sore and exhausted and a little too satisfied. Sun was peeking through a small opening in the curtains, spilling golden light onto the dingy carpet. He stretched, not even caring how naked he was, and padded to the bathroom.

The thing about motels was that they were always barely nice. The bathroom had an approximation of cleanliness, with swept floors, and a stain-free toilet, but the tub was lined with soap-scum, and a concerning spot of mold was growing at the top corner of the shower. A bar of soap and nothing else rested on the side of the tub. He turned the knob to start the spray, and took a piss while waiting for the water to heat up.

When he looked into the mirror, he could admit he looked like a mess. His eyes had bags under them, and fur was growing on his teeth. More pressing were the teeth marks imprinted into his neck, turning a shocking red. He sighed, and turned back to the shower, stepping in and enjoying washing away the filth.

When he got out of the shower, Red was up, tapping something out on his phone, and barely had the time to look up before Blue bent over and kissed him. He immediately regretted it.

“Ugh,” he pulled away, “you have hangover breath.” Now that Blue thought about it, he probably did, too, but at least he’d taken a shower.

Red laughed at him with raised eyebrows, “wow, you really know how to flatter, “and slipped into the bathroom to fix it.

                   They went to the bar that night, their moods worlds apart from their last visit. Blue recognised the girl working the bar from the other night. She seemed to recognise him, too, because when they sat down to order a drink, she gave them a sly smile.

“You two obviously worked things out, then,” she said, and Blue felt heat rise to his face. He suppressed the urge to cover his neck.

“I’ll raise a glass to that,” Red grinned as he got his drink, completely unashamed and guiltless. Blue hesitantly clinked with him, sipped his beer, and their evening started.

“How much longer until we actually get back into civilization?” complained Red. Blue had written this down, being the responsible one, and he pulled up his phone.

“It’s about an hour’s drive to Regina, then we’ll pass through,” he hesitated, knowing exactly the joke Red would try to make, “Fairy Hill to get-“

“Is that seriously a real place?” Red snatched the phone from Blue’s hands and he sighed, though the look of utter glee on Red’s face made him smile.

“Yup. It’s a real place.”

“That’s amazing. Do you think there’s a Fairy Hill ferry?”

“It seems unlikely considering we’re landlocked, but I wouldn’t put it past Canada.” He managed to grab his phone back, and pulled up the route again.

“Anyways, it’ll be about three hours to Saskatoon, which,” he put a finger up to silence Red’s open mouth, “is also a real place.” Red just bit his finger in response, and Blue pulled it back.

“Ow! God, you’re such an asshole.”

“Aw, poor baby. Do you want me to kiss it better?” Blue rolled his eyes when Red fluttered his eyelashes, and almost missed the way the bar’s conversation dimmed when the front door jingled and three beefy men stepped inside.

“Shit,” the bartender said under her breath, something that made Blue’s stomach tighten, but she put on a smile as the three walked up to the bar and asked what they’d have.

“Something strong, sweets,” one of them said, sitting down next to them. Red seemed unaffected, so he glanced over him to peer at the guys.

“I’ll bring you some Vodka, then.” They were white, around thirty or so, and were huge, taller than the two of them and much thicker. Blue’s stomach seemed to knot for no reason, but he tried to shake it off. They probably had said something stupid to the bartender and pissed her off.

“We’ll have two shots, ourselves.” Piped in Red, who grinned at the guys and put his thumbs up, “might as well start a party, right?”

The man closest to Red beamed at him, “Eh, I like this one. Drinks on me, man.”

“Sweet,” said Red and shook his hand, “I’m Red, and this loser is Blue.”

“Shut up,” Blue retorted, and grabbed a shot of vodka when it arrived.

“Nice to meet you,” said the man. The guy in the middle didn’t seem like he wanted to do much talking, but he was pointed to all the same. “That’s Frank, and this here’s Louie,” he gestured to the smallest man on the far right, who looked friendly enough, with a soft face and one pierced earring, but didn’t offer anything up. “My name’s Rob.”

“Well, as Americans, we have to toast to this beautiful country of yours!”

“To Canada!” Rob and Blue shouted.

“To America’s hat!” Toasted Red, and they downed it in unison. The vodka was probably the cheapest you could find, but it hit much harder than beer, so Blue gestured for another.

Rob was chatty, and didn’t seem inclined to drink in silence. Frank looked worn down already from the conversation, and Blue didn’t miss the way he eyed his neck. He felt the bite marks throb under the careful gaze, and he tried to focus on what Rob was saying.

“So you’re Americans, huh? What part?”

“California,” Blue offered, “a lot warmer than here.”

Rob laughed, and knocked back another shot.

“That’s for sure. Never been myself. Too many Jews down there, fucking up the place.”

Blue was shocked speechless, and he had a sinking feeling that this conversation was going a very different direction than the one he expected.

“Uh,” he floundered for words, still in a bit of a whirl, and tried to gather his words, “yeah.” Wow. What a response. Wait, did he just say “yeah” to the-

“You look like you had fun last night,” Frank broke the silence, not looking entirely pleased, but Blue was thankful that someone was speaking, at least, “you boys hire a couple of ladies?”

Red, like always, swallowed his alcohol and grinned, and had none of the wariness burning a hole in Blue’s insides.

“Nah, we just rented a room and went at it.” He was smiling his toothy smile, the one he either wore when he was trying to fuck someone, or piss someone off. Sometimes both.

Rob’s smile had fallen flat, and Frank shook his head beside him.

“Well that’s your lifestyle, then,” he muttered, and pounded one back. When he swallowed, he looked right at Red, “we’ll be going. Can’t be seen talking to a couple of queers.”

The insult hit Blue like a slap, but he felt Red tighten up beside him, broiling with anger. Blue’s mind scrabbled to find something to disarm the situation, but he came up empty handed.

Red just laughed, however, and made things worse.

“And what a lifestyle it is,” he said, over pronouncing his words and hamming it up. Blue wanted to disappear into his seat. “I mean, you haven’t lived until you’ve had a tongue up your asshole. Just right up in there, deep in that asshole.”

Frank stayed silent, but Rob had a scowl on his face. The man on the far right, Louie, didn’t say anything, just looked back down into his drink, looking as uncomfortable and Blue felt.

“You’re disgusting,” Louie said, but Red went on.

“I know it’s not for everyone, though. There’s only so much ass you can get in this world.” He paused for a second, “That is, unless you’re wanting to join us.”

Judging from the vein that had popped up on the guy’s neck, Red had started to push some buttons, “you look like a real bottom to me. Am I right?”

Rob’s chair made a deafening scraping noise as he shot up to face Red. Frank stood up more slowly, but held his body in a way that made Blue suspect he could hold his own in a fight. Blue grabbed Red’s hand from under the bar, squeezing it savagely when Red stood up as well.

“You wanna say that to me again, fag boy?” He waved a sausage finger is Red’s face, and Blue could see the rage building, ready to burst. The whole bar had turned to see what the issue was, and that anticipatory energy of watching a fight build silenced the conversation.

The woman broke the silence, cutting off anything Red could have said, and part of Blue’s soul praised any god that might or might not exist.

“Frank!” warned the bartender, reaching under the bar to show off a baseball bat stowed underneath, “if you and your fuckboys start anything I’m calling the cops again and banning you from the bar.”

There was a thick moment.

Rob put up his hands, breaking from Red’s stare, and gave her a sleazy grin. The entire room relaxed an inch, and Blue let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“Woah, sweetheart, no need for that. We’ll just be paying the bill, now.” He reached inside his leather jacket and chucked a bunch of fivers on the table, and the three turned to leave.

“Yeah, you assholes better run,” Red muttered under his breath, and Blue dug his nails into his thigh. The guys didn’t seem to hear, or maybe even notice, however, and as they left, their matching jackets were on display: three identical leather jackets with three swastikas on the back, each enclosed in a fiery red circle.

 _That explains things_ , Blue thought dryly to himself, and he looked to the bartender, who was less than pleased with them.

“I am very sorry for that, I did not know they were crazy people.”

She gave them a withering stare, but then lost it, looking more tired than anything else.

“It’s alright. They come here every so often, but they don’t usually start anything,” she gathered up the money for the drinks and wiped down the counter. “Obviously you struck a nerve.”

“I think I need twelve more drinks after that,” announced Red, and Blue found himself agreeing.

“Coming right up,” she said, “provided you’re quiet. You start anything else, and you’ll be out on your asses.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they nodded and got silently wasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, there are active neo-nazi groups alive and well in Canada. I made up the symbol of a swastika inside a circle, but that doesn't mean these groups don't exist. Canada has a sparkling clean image of being racist-free, but that's not the case. We have our neo-nazis, our white supremacists, and a good portion of the population knows little to fuck all about anything regarding aboriginal issues. 
> 
> My point is, that in some areas, Canada is great. In others, we're just as much of a dumpster fire as the rest of the world.


	12. Part Twelve: Whoops

Five drinks in, and he was starting to blur around the edges, and by eight, he was having trouble balancing, and rested against Red to stop himself from swaying.

"I'm gonna go and take a piss," he announced, and stumbled towards the bathrooms.

When he got back, Red had started to fiddle with the jukebox. Blue walked up to him, about to ask what songs there were, when the first few bars of _Old Time Rock and Roll_ started playing. Red shook his shoulders, doing a ridiculous impression of air guitar. 

“This is a little different than the club music you’re into,” he commented, still a little embarrassed at the way people were staring. Red twisted in a circle, and even though he danced in the most awkward, jerky way, the amount of effort he put into it somehow made up for things. The few other people in the bar had taken notice, and when Red pulled off a particularly good move, had thrown out a few encouraging hollers, while one drunk woman shouted, “take your shirt off!”, laughing.

“Different than the screechy shit you usually play,” he explained, countless images of the two of them dancing in various clubs came to mind, and Red shrugged mid hip thrust.

“It’ll do.”

The song changed into another classic, and this time, when Red pulled him by the arm, it might have been the alcohol or the way Red was grinning that let him join in. This song he didn’t know, but he was having fun, matching Red’s weird, careless movements.

“You’re not doing this right,” criticised Red, and Blue shot him a look.

“I’m trying,” he replied, trying his best not to laugh. He mirrored Red’s weird body rolls and sprinkler arms, but Red didn’t look impressed.

“Try harder! Come on!” He made a wave with his arms, looking crazed. Blue had to lean on his knees to stay upright, and clapped his hands together. Yup. He was drunk. He grabbed Red’s sweaty hands and pulled him closer, doing his best approximation of a swing dance to go with the music.

“This sucks,” giggled Red, after Blue stepped on his foot for the fourth time.

“Hey, are you complaining? Because I could just go back to the bar and leave you to dance on your own.” Red snorted, and shook his head.

“Nu-uh, no complaining here. Let me try something.” He held out his hand, forcing Blue to the side, and getting the message, he spun under Red’s arm, faster and faster, until he let go, completely dizzy. Blue stumbled, still moving in circles. He held out a hand to stop him from moving, and hit something heavy with enough force to make every pair of eyes in the room stare at him all at once.

The jukebox had hit the side of the wall with a bang, and if that noise wasn’t loud enough, the music crawled to a stop.

He stood there for a second, still dizzy and swaying. Red was biting his lip, probably wondering if they were going to be thrown out. He got an idea, and moved, straightening out the thing so it was resting on all fours again and not against the wall. Then, he hit the jukebox as hard as he could along the bottom. To his disbelief, the old music started up again, warped and out of tune, but then it sped up again and continued.

He turned around, hands raised, and the four other patrons in the bar gave he some applause. Red clapped too, but pulled him in by the collar once everyone had gone back to their drinks.

"Wow. Good job."

Blue wanted another shot. "You're the one who spun me," he slurred, defensive.

“If we want to not be kicked out, we should probably leave now.” Red sounded far less drunk than Blue was. That bastard. He nodded dumbly, and let himself be pulled by the wrist, and they stepped out into the open air.

Red slung an arm around him, holding him in place so he didn’t fall over and die. Blue was grateful, putting a hand on his waist and enjoying the heat Red gave off. The night was cool, not cold or biting, but the sweat from dancing gave him a little chill. The air was fresh, and the walk back along the road to the motel went quickly. Red hummed the song that had played on the jukebox, but otherwise, they were silent.

“I’m sobering up far too quickly,” he commented, and Red looked at him in horror. They reached the parking lot, and shimmied in between the rows of cars to get near the doors.

“You poor thing. I have a bottle of rum in my bag, we’ll have to administer it immediately.”

Blue giggled, and sung, “yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum!” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and swung them around his finger in a loop, impressed that he didn't fling them across the pavement or drop them on the ground.

“Drink and the devil had done with the rest!” Red sang back, and Blue tried to follow along, even though he didn’t actually know the rest of the words.

“The mate was fixed by the bosun’s pike! The bosun brained with a marlin’s pike!”

Blue stopped singing when a chill ran up his spine, he turned around, trying to peer beyond the cars and darkness. The pavement along the side of the motel was lit up, but with such dim lighting, it made him squint. He couldn’t see much, and he clung just a little tighter to Red.

Red kept singing, “and cooky’s throat was marked belike! C’mon! It had been gripped by finger’s-“

His voice was cut off when they were wrenched apart, Blue thrown to the side as a fist moved fast and hit Red square in the nose. Red made a sound of surprise, and was grabbed by the three men from the bar. Blue recognised them immediately, the two lackies, Rob and Louie held him back by the arms. They were situated between two cars, and unless Blue wanted to make a run for it along the pavement and leave Red behind, he didn’t have a way out.

“Oh, come on! You have such a nice voice. Keep singing.” Red struggled, but the men were much larger than him. Frank didn’t wait for Red’s response, and just suckered him right in the face, knocking his head backwards.

“Stop it, come on.” Blue was sober now, and the icy fear was back, weighing down his stomach with horror. He put his hands up in surrender. “We’re sorry. Just let him go and we won’t bother you.”

“Like hell we will,” Red’s voice was nasally, and while he spoke droplets of blood sprayed everywhere, but he still sounded pissed.

Frank kicked him hard in the stomach, and Red tried to curl in on himself, only to be stopped by the guys holding him in place. He blanched for a moment, and Blue thought he was going to say something stupid again, but instead, he leaned over and spewed liquor and junk food over himself and the car to his left. Louie recoiled back, while Rob only muttered an “aw sick,”, and Frank kicked him again, obviously not caring about getting vomit on his shoes. Rob was watching the violence like a show, while Louie, stepped back, letting Red’s left shoulder slump downwards. He was given another kick, and the guy turned away. Blue saw a small chance.

“Leave him alone!” against his better judgement, Blue stepped forward, reaching for Red.

His vision blurred, and his balance was thrown out the window. He heard a deafening crack and then felt it, and by the time he realised he’d been thrown headfirst into the motel wall, he was already on the ground. Things spun for a moment, and he couldn’t hear anything but the shrill, splitting, ringing echo in his ears. He put a hand to his forehead where the pain was, and looked in silent horror when he saw blood. The pain overcame the fear, however, and he held his head in his hands, trying to stop the world from spinning.

“Oh, God. Man, what the fuck?” He really didn’t need this inconvenience, and honestly, the whole thing was Red’s fault. There was still that throbbing ringing in his ears, but wait, no. That was something different. This was a car alarm, gone off when red had fallen over onto it.

“Hey!” a voice cut through the madness, and all five of them started, “that’s my fucking car!”

They stood in silence for a moment, until footsteps began approaching, and the biggest of the three motioned with his head. Rob dropped Red’s other arm, until he was fully slumped on the ground, and did a cocky salute to Blue, who could only glare.

“See you around,” he said, with just enough malice to put that fear right back into Blue’s gut. That wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

The quiet one was left standing there, (and with the pain pulsing through his brain, he couldn’t bring himself to remember his name), and he hesitated. He took a step forward, as if he wanted to say something. Apologize? Offer something? Threaten them again? It was hard to tell. The man called again, though, and broke through whatever the guy was thinking, and just like that, he vanished with the others.

“Jesus,” the voice was out of breath, and he stopped to lean over, his shoulders heaving. When he looked up, he noticed the state the two were in, and became angry, “you got puke on my car!”

Blue’s head was still spinning, but he was conscious enough to sit up, wipe some blood off his forehead, and give the man a withering glare.

“Yeah, thanks for your concern, asshole.”

The man rolled his eyes, but took his phone out of his pocket.

“Fine, whatever. You want me to call the police,” he gave a look to where Red was on his hands and knees, dry heaving spittle onto the ground, “or an ambulance?”

Red would be a nightmare with the police, but having him in a hospital would be worse. Blue straightened up, his knees trembling as he leaned against the wall.

“Don’t. We’ll be fine. Can you just, maybe, help me get him to our room?”

“How far is it?” The guy cast another longing look to the mess on his car, but grabbed Red from under his arm. Blue took the other one, and Red found his footing.

“It’s like, three doors down.”

                The guy left as soon as Red plopped on his bed, barely giving Blue enough time to thank him. He pulled off his shoes, and sat on the bed beside him, prodding at his ribs.

“Fuck! Stop it!” Red swatted his hands away, so at least he was functional enough to move, “Maybe you forgot, but I just got wrecked.” He looked away, and Blue rolled his eyes when he heard the bruised ego in his voice. Also the rolling was in spirit only, because his head still felt like it’d been run over by a train.

Blue pinned one of his hands down, but didn’t quite catch the other one. He ground his teeth in frustration, and barked out, “stop moving, retard, I’m trying to see if there’s anything broken.”

Red rolled his eyes, which would have looked a lot more impressive if his face wasn’t covered in blood and bile.

“My nose is broken, the rest of me is fine.”

Blue severely doubted that, because while his face looked bad, his body had taken the brunt of the beating. But if Red wanted to die of internal bleeding, that was his choice. Red’s nose was still fucked up, though, and he gestured to it, not quite sure how to handle things.

“Do you, uh, want me to set it?”

Red sighed, and squirmed around, wincing when he moved.

“Yeah. Do it.”

He hesitated, took a deep breath, and gripped Red’s bridge between thumb and forefinger, trying to ignore the noise he made. He moved quickly, and

“Ah, shit.” Red shook his head, and swore again when he grimaced.

“Is it okay now?” it was straighter now, but didn’t look any less swollen. Red seemed happier, though, so that was positive.

“Yeah. Thanks, man. I hate doing it myself.”

“Awesome.” He didn’t want to think about that for longer than he had to. He looked down instead, and wrinkled his nose.

“Your shirt is disgusting,” he said, then scooted closer so he could peel the offending fabric up his body.

“Can you not?” Red hissed, once he’d reached his arms, and had to lift them up to go any further.

“Yeah,” his voiced dripped with sarcasm, “sure. And I’m certain you’ll have absolutely no trouble doing this on your own.”

“Fuck you. Just watch my nose.”

Once the shirt was off, Red sighed, but still moved off of the bed. Blue was sure he was about to fall over, but somehow Red limped over to the bathroom, and he heard him turn the bath on, and the splashes of him washing his face. He stood up from the bed, making sure he wobbled as little as possible.

“I’m gonna call Pink. Don’t pass out and die while I’m gone.” 

“I’ll do my best,” came Red’s reply from the bathroom.

It was far too early in the morning to call Pink, and he was hit with exhaustion when he realized how long he’d been awake. He texted her anyways, just sending off a quick,  _I know you’re asleep, but just got back from the pub with Red. We’re both alive._

His phone beeped almost immediately, and he looked down in surprise.

_Hey Blue! <3333_

_Hey, you,_ He texted, topping it off with a tasteful _< 3_ himself, _You’re up early_

_Just got up for yoga. They have yoga on the boat!_

_We always talked about doing yoga together. I think we should do it._

_Okay,_ was Blue’s only response, which was carefully neither a yes nor no.

_I even got Stacy to come. She hates me now but it’s worth it._

She sent a photo, smiling cheerfully into the camera, and Blue had to chuckle at Stacey giving her a middle finger in the background.

She sent another photo, this time closer to Stacey’s pained face.

The next photo was a blur of motion, and Blue stared at it, confused, until his phone dinged with a text, probably from Stacey.

_Hey blue, ur gf suuuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkks_

_Sorry, that was Stacey. Love you!_

_Love you too_ , Blue sent back, and his screen went dark.

He went back inside. Red had already fallen asleep. He kicked off his shoes and pants, flinging his shirt across the room. Red mumbled something when Blue slipped beside him, but was otherwise silent.


	13. Part Thirteen: henclhwbcejw.l

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They eat food and fuck, and that's the entire chapter.

They somehow pulled themselves together in the early morning. Red had slipped out during the night and had gotten a big bucket full of ice, and had passed a face towel full of cubes to Blue, holding two to his own body. Once the alcohol had worn off, his forehead started to hurt like a bitch. Thankfully, he didn’t have a concussion, though his brain throbbing at every blink of light or pitched noise. Red was far worse off, his face a bloody, swollen mess, and dark bruises mottling his torso.

Blue sat up when he got out of the bathroom, had washed the blood off, had refilled his facecloth and assessed the damage to his face. He didn’t meet Blue’s eye, but leaned against the doorway, giving a small smile.

“Been a long time since I peed blood,” he commented, doing nothing to make Blue feel better. He scowled.

“Is that supposed to be an accomplishment?”

“First of all, it’s much better than the last time, secondly, I’m taking it as one,” he replied, and lifted up his shirt, showing the darkened skin. Blue looked away, feeling a little sick.

“Stop. My head hurts enough already.”

“Fine,” he pulled down his shirt, wincing when he moved too quickly. He went to the bed and laid down slower, settling beside Blue. The covers were wet from the melted ice, and smeared with dried blood. “I’m guessing we’re not driving today.”

“If I drive, I’ll puke on you.”

“Awesome,” he noted, and closed his eyes.

                Red slept for longer than Blue did, and was out cold when he got up to have a shower. He still looked awful, his face still swollen and bruised. Blue’s forehead had crusted over, had already formed a scab. A comical egg had formed under the cut, making him look like an idiot, but otherwise he was fine. He left the room and took his car to a gas station, filled it up, and made sure to get chips, some painkillers, and two bottles of water.

He thought about going back to the motel after he’d re-parked his car, but just as he stepped outside, his stomach growled, reminding him how long it’d been since he’d had food. Across from the gas station was a coffee place.

He’d heard the tales of Tim Hortons, the great Canadian staple, but never had the opportunity to try it. He shrugged, and started walking. Who could visit Canada without experiencing the hype?

“Good morning,” the guy at the counter greeted, a little too cheerfully, “what can I get for you?”

“Hey,” he glanced at the menu, “can I get two coffees, two doughnuts, a breakfast wrap, and a bagel?”

“Yup,” and he rang Blue up.

The place had like, fifteen different kinds of doughnuts, but he didn’t even know if Red wanted to eat, so he just got a glazed one, and kept the coffee black.

He understood why the food was so cheap when he took a sip of the coffee on his way back, but shrugged. Coffee was coffee, no matter the quality. Besides, they could always pick up real food once they were in shape to drive.

Red was still sleeping when he got back, but woke up once he smelled the coffee. He stretched, then winced, and sat up, blinking.

“What time is it?” he asked, scrunching his face as Blue flicked on the light.

“Almost noon. Hungry?” He waved the bag, and chucked it beside Red, setting their coffees down on the bedside table.

“I’m fucking starving,” he replied, crinkling open the paper. He stopped, though, and looked to Blue. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and they both tucked in.

                After the food was gone, they lived off of a can of pringles and the rest of the flask of whiskey. Red kept icing, and they sat together, watching the shitty motel television. They started making out once they got bored of local news and weird commercials. They kissed, and it was natural, and heated, and Blue instantly wanted more.

“ah, watch the nose!” Red winced, and Blue drew back.

“Sorry,” and moved to kiss his neck.

"So when are we leaving?" Red breathed, which was an odd question, especially now, but Blue answered anyway.

“We’ll probably start driving the day after next.”

“Okay, then I can fit in a surprise tomorrow night.” Blue pulled back, giving Red a look. He didn't give anything away but a knowing grin, and Blue narrowed his eyes, knowing trusting Red would probably lead to disaster.

“That’s either really hot or really concerning.” Red tugged on Blue’s shirt, and he pulled it over his head, falling back to help Red with his.

“Why can’t it be both?”

"You're right. It is both."

Blue trailed his fingers down Red’s torso, lightly, so he wouldn’t hurt him. It really did look awful, looked like it still hurt like a bitch.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He let his hands stay on his hips, and Red let out a huff of frustration.

“I’m fine, okay, Mom?”

“Jesus, I was just checking,” he backed off, then slipped off the bed and sank to his knees.

Red watched as he undid his jeans, fists bunching into the comforter when Blue pulled his cock out.

“Wow, sucking dick? You really are concussed.” Red tried to laugh, but hissed as Blue sucked his lips over the head, just to shut him up.

The taste wasn’t horrible, but wasn’t something he’d willingly submit himself to if it wasn’t for the way Red squirmed and shuddered under his touch. And he tried to make it good, as good as someone fumbling around for the first time could be. He just tried to do what he enjoyed, hand stroking the base, licking the underside, mouth bobbing shallowly. His tongue explored the tip, and when Red threw back his head and actually moaned, Blue bobbed deeper, getting confident.

Red didn’t bother holding back, just enjoyed himself, putting a hand on Blue’s shoulder when his body went tense. Blue appreciated the warning, but wasn’t fast enough, and ended up with a spot of cum of his chin.

Red took one look at Blue’s disgusted face, when he touched the glob on his chin and looked at it, and just started laughing.

“Gross,” Blue complained, and Red laughed harder, “wow, thanks for your sympathy.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Commented Red, as if he himself was the standard of normal.

“Shut up and jack me off,” he retorted, climbing into Red’s lap once he’d pulled down his boxers.

               “I always knew you wouldn’t be able to get enough once we started fucking,” he said, once they’d started washing up in the bathroom, far too smug for Blue’s taste. Blue rolled his eyes.

“I’m just doing it so you have to shower afterwards. Otherwise you get disgusting.”

Red looked as offended as someone could be after getting head.

“Fuck you, I shower.”

“Barely,” Blue sassed, and laughed when he got beamed in the back with a pillow.

“Anyways. We’re going out for dinner after this, because we’re all out of pringles.”


	14. Part Fourteen: in need of jeebus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids, maybe don't try scratching until you've negotiated beforehand. Just a thought.

Dinner was nice, though they had to drive for like, an hour just to find something. They decided on a little family restaurant in a strip mall. Red had lasagna, while Blue had fettuccine Alfredo. It was priced well, pretty good, and filling.

Most of all, however, it was fun. They fell into the flowing, casual banter that they’d always had, but it was like tension had been relieved. Blue caught himself relaxing, his shoulders stopped tensing up, while Red behaved himself, mostly.

They were silent on the way home, happy and well-fed. Red held their leftovers in a plastic bag on his lap, and flicked on the radio.

Because there wasn’t a fridge in the room, they decided to just fill their ice bucket back up and shove the box in there.

“At least we don’t need to use the whole thing for your wounds,” Blue chuckled, relaxing back onto the bed (they’d both decided to just sleep together in the one farthest to the wall, leaving the unused one for bags, and towels, and dirty underwear.

“Speak for yourself,” said Red, who’s face was still swollen, his bruises fading to a dark purple, “I could get into another fight and have to be tended to again.”

Blue rolled his eyes, flicking on the tv. Might as well watch weird, local news before bed.

                The next day, after getting breakfast and like, four more cans of pringles at a gas station, they hung out in the room, not really willing to spend more time than necessary outside. Blue planned the next leg of their trip while Red showered, and he took out his highlighters, and notebook, and got to work.

He barely noticed when Red came up to him, still slightly damp and wrapped in a shitty hotel towel. Red pushed the book away and sat on his lap, smirking as the towel fell away when Blue moved to kiss him.

They pulled away after a few moments, and Blue remembered something.

“You said you had a surprise for me,” said Blue, hoping it was a blowjob.

“Yeah,” said Red, making sure not to give anything away, “But you need to close your eyes.”

“This goes against my better judgement,” he replied, but he did it anyways.

Blue heard some rustling, some shuffling, and he felt his skin prickle at the sounds. Red could reveal he was into butt plugs and nipple-clamps, or he could announce that he’d found a wild skunk and trapped it in their bathroom. Really, it was a toss-up with him.

Blue started when he felt Red’s hands, big and warm, take hold of either side of his face. His eyes fluttered open, and his eyes immediately fixated onto Red’s thick leather belt. He held the thing between his teeth, showing off his bright incisors. Blue shivered under his gaze, even though his cheeks burned where Red grasped him.

“What are you planning to do with that?” His voice was a little distorted, considering Red was holding his jaw in place, but Red didn’t answer, just kept the thing between his teeth, giving him a salacious look.

His hands slid down Blue’s body, brushing over neck, and shoulder, and sides, until they rested at the hem of his shirt. Blue let him pull off the fabric, and felt his wrists grasped tightly, almost painfully.

“Red,” Blue started, but he got hushed.

“You’ve liked pain so far,” he said, still holding a finger to Blue’s lips, and Blue swallowed down a bolt of panic.

He pulled Blue’s wrists to the edge of the bedpost, and the wood felt hard and cold, and his heartrate skyrocketed. He looked to Red, who was hard at work fastening the belt around his wrists. The metal clanged before he fastened it tight into place, and Blue felt another bolt of fear run through him when he tugged at the bonds. Nothing gave.

“Let’s see how much you like it now, while I’m in charge.”

Red gazed down at Blue’s neck, and chest, and tented underwear, and back up again, and grinned. Blue avoided his eye. It almost felt too exposed, which was ridiculous. Red had seen him naked before. He gave one last try against the belt, and finally fell compliant against the headboard. He felt trapped, not unpleasantly so, but in a way that had his skin hypersensitive and buzzing. Red grabbed his chin and forced them to lock eyes.

“Aw, man,” he started, and Blue winced when his nails dug into the flesh, scraping along some stubble, “we’re gonna have so much fun.”

They started with some kissing, light touches along his body, Red’s weight above him. More than once, he’d move to clutch at his shirt, or grope his crotch, and then he’d remember. Red huffed a laugh once Blue fell back, disappointed. He definitely was in charge.

Red kissed his cheek, and jaw, and Blue could really get used to the scratch and sound of stubble, especially if he was being kissed like this, but then Red moved down to his neck and chest, and the flat part of his stomach, and-

Red pulled away, making Blue groan in disappointment.

“Come on,” Blue whined, but Red shook his head.

“Nope,” and there was his stupid grin again, and Blue wanted to complain, but then Red had his weight fully back on Blue again (which offered some comfort to his boner), and rested his hand on his chest, he looked almost hesitant. Red seemed to take in a breath, and in return, so did Blue.

And when Red first drew his nails down Blue’s chest, leaving a trail of rosy skin behind, all he could do was watch, and hiss, and experience the hot pain blooming in its wake. He barely held back a gasp, and Red’s smile returned.

“There we go,” he said, watching his chest with intense fascination, and scratched again.

It felt hot and white, and Red scratched harder, enough to have his skin flush a brilliant pink in parallel trails on his stomach. His dick was twitching with every mark, and he bit his lip. The whimper he managed to swallow was far too embarrassing to voice, but Red looked angry for a moment, and he gave a brilliant stinging slap to the center of his stomach.

Too surprised to hold back his yelp, he cried out, and while his cock throbbed, and his skin radiated, Red looked at him sharply.

“Don’t you dare stay quiet,” and as if to prove his point, he slapped him again on the belly, leaving a comical handprint dead center on his skin. It was an alternation between slapping and scratching. Red would switch between them seamlessly, as if he was following some silent rhythm, and then he’d stick to scratching, long and sweet and slow, just to lull Blue into enough of a calm to pull a yelp out when the blow came.

The pain came in waves with each movement, but swelled and rose until his skin burned with sensation. The whole thing felt a little overwhelming, to be honest, but in a way that had his head lolling back against the board, and his toes curling in the sheets.

It was hard to keep track of time like this, and eventually he felt himself just sort of let go. His entire body was caught in the repetition between straining against the pain and relaxing into it, and the sheer amount of repetition had him dizzy. His mind felt fuzzy, his body charged. Red hadn’t even touched his cock, but he knew if he started, he’d come in three strokes max.

He let himself close his eyes. His chest was a mess of pink, with streaks of crimson where the skin had given way. And then Red stopped, and before Blue could open his mouth to ask for more, Red was fumbling at the belt around his wrists.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done,” Red’s voice seemed far away, but he managed to nod. He rubbed at his arms once they were free, and looked at Red.

“Lie on your stomach,” Red commanded, and Blue wasted no time.

He flipped over immediately, and had the added bonus of thrusting slightly against the mattress. He groaned at the friction, but then groaned at the new set of scratches Red was painting onto his back. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t do much more than pant into the mattress, feeling his chin rub into the fabric. He wanted to rut like a dog, give something to his straining dick, but Red’s weight kept him in place. He also didn’t want that magical burn to stop, even at the expense of an orgasm. This time, Blue pushed up against Red’s fingers, wanting that burn, and wanting his nails, and wanting more, and more, and more.

And he got more, and he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut and felt the endorphins flood in, following the fire on his back. When Red pressed hard, harder, hard enough to break the skin, he cried out, his eyes flying open. A wave hit him afterwards, and his eyes fluttered closed again.

“More,” he pushed his hips up to illustrate his point, and Red dug his claws into the meat of his shoulders, making him hiss. Red kept going, pulling again, and again, and again, until everything else blurred from his mind. It made him rise, lift off, and float in the air. Even the pain felt far away, muted by cotton, and fluff, or something equally ridiculous.

When Red finally stopped his scratches, Blue barely noticed. He shifted his hips so that his weight lifted off him. The mattress dipped as he leaned forwards, and Blue hummed as whiskers brushed along the side of his neck.

“Turn over,” he breathed, and Blue did. His cloudy eyes met Red’s, and Red closed the space between them, pressing their foreheads together before going in for a kiss.

And this wasn’t the ravenous, pressing kissing they’d had before. Before had been all needy moans, and bruising holds, and teeth and nails. This was different. They moved slow, and Red took time to explore his mouth, suck in all the right places, pull his bottom lip between his teeth. Red, Blue found, was actually a really good kisser when he wasn’t crushing him into the mattress.

Red took care of Blue’s underwear, grinding down once the fabric had been tossed across the room.

Blue’s mouth was slack, and if he was sober, he’d keep quiet. He wasn’t sober, though, so he wasn’t quiet. His thoughts were twisting unnaturally in his head, and he laid his head back and keened softly, overwhelmed. He could hear Red humming above him, every so often brushing against the mess on his stomach. Every brush, no matter how gentle, felt electric. Red grinned from above, and lifted his hips, and positioned himself over Blue’s cock, grinning like a madman.

Blue almost stopped him, wanting to tell him to stretch himself out, make this pleasurable instead of fast, but it came out more like,”ahh,” and then, “fuck,” when Red slid himself down with minimal resistance.

He vowed to ask Red how he thought ahead enough to prepare himself so far in advance. That was for the morning, though. Now, he just focused on the feeling of Red squeezing around him, and the gentle nips being placed along his neck, his cheek, the shell of his ear. Blue scrabbled for purchase, eventually finding ahold of his hips as he moved.

Again, it was hard to tell how long they spent like that. They moved, and gasped, and breathed along to the squeaking of the headboards, Red giving him kisses every so often when he changed angles.

He was so tired, and it took all he had just to come. Red didn’t seem bothered, just kept moving him through it, not even complaining when his cock slid out of him with a disgusting noise. Red kissed him then, as he was coming down, and he knew from the way he bit and sucked and breathed he was pumping himself to completion as well. He gasped, and whimpered, and tensed, and finally relaxed beside Blue, wiping his hands on the covers.

Blue’s last image was the empty bed on the opposite side of the room. He closed his eyes, feeling so incredibly drained he didn’t mind it when Red curled around him, encircling his waist with heavy arms.


	15. Part Fifteen: Straight Outta Control

“Say goodbye to the room,” Blue said, zipping up his backpack. They needed to find a laundromat soon, or he’d have to resort to wearing old underwear. He moved to his suitcase, shoving clothes, shoes, and books indiscriminately. He’d have to unpack it all again anyways, and he could live with a couple of wrinkly shirts.

He lifted the case to the floor, wincing when his shirt rubbed against his back, more than feeling his marks. If Red noticed, he didn’t comment, and just grabbed the backpack as he sauntered outside.

“I’ll miss you,” Red blew kisses at the door as Blue locked it, and they walked down to the reception after lifting their bags into the trunk of the car. Blue watched Red move, wondering if he was still sore. His face was kinda gross now, though with all the icing at least the swelling had gone down.

“How’s your stomach, and sides, or whatever?” Red shrugged and slammed the trunk closed.

“I just need to drink water, maybe sleep later. Still sucks, though.” He studied Blue’s face, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows. “I should be asking how you are.”

“I’m fine,” he responded, not bothering to be embarrassed, “hurts to move sometimes.”

Red nodded, “we’re in the same boat, then.”

The checkout guy looked bored, but started tapping on his computer right away. Just as Blue was handed his credit card, Red tapped him on the shoulder, leaning in.

“Asshole number one’s in the parking lot.”

Blue turned around. Sure enough, the guy named Rob was on the opposite side of the parking lot, leaning on an expensive looking motorcycle and smoking a cigarette. Blue sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Fuck.”

He remembered the sight of Red being held down, the sounds he made when he was hit, the look of pain he had before he puked over that guy’s car. He glared at Rob, that unreasonable dick, and didn’t notice the guy at the reception staring at him.

“Fuck indeed,” the guy said, surprising the both Red and Blue.

“You know that guy?” Blue looked at the dark expression on his face, and he nodded.

“They always hang out at that bar over there. Might have some business with the old owner.”

Blue looked back to the guy. No other bikes waited out with him, and he was scrolling through his phone, not paying attention to anything else. He looked safe enough, on his own. They could probably leave without being noticed. He didn’t want anything else to do with those assholes. He was curious, though, to know if they were a fixture in this area, if anyone else had started something with them.

“Do they cause trouble?” Blue ignored the way Red was glaring out the window, clutching his hands until the knuckles turned white. Red had been beaten before, had been sent to the hospital a couple times, and had certainly had worse, but Blue knew he had a bruised ego, and in his experience, that was far, far, worse.

The man sighed, and leaned forwards, lowering his voice even though there was no one else in the room.

“Let’s just say having them here is bad for business, especially after three bodies were found in the woods at the start of the highway.”

“Jesus.” Blue’s dread started back up in his stomach. Red didn’t look any less angry.

“They were locals, too. All Jewish, all beaten to death. Can’t imagine it was anyone else.”

“No one got arrested?”

“Not enough evidence,” the man started, and then said, “sorry, I don’t mean to scare you or anything. Just stay away from them. They’re trouble.”

“We’ve noticed,” Blue said, his voice dry, and the guy seemed to finally see Red. He grimaced at the bruises on his face.

“Christ, did he do that?”

Red didn’t look impressed at the reaction.

“Yeah,” he gestured to the scabby mess on Blue’s forehead as well, and Blue didn’t miss the protective grit in his voice, “and that.”

Red seemed to hesitate, then took a breath, leaning both his hands on the counter before looking the man in the eye.

“Are you going to call the police if I beat him up?”

Blue sputtered.

“Red, no one’s beating anyone up. Let’s just leave.”

The man, however, had different feelings.

“Go quickly, and I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Red said, and the man nodded, serious.

“Please, stop encouraging him,” started Blue, but Red was already out the door, moving quickly across the pavement.

“Shit,” he muttered. Blue glared at the man behind the counter, who didn’t look remorseful in the least.

“Be careful,” warned the man, and Blue felt another bolt of anger.

“I think we’re way past that,” he spat, and pushed open the door to follow him.

Red was on the other side of the lot when Blue got outside, and he didn’t even have time to shout, or threaten, or grab, before he was right next to the thug.

The guy only looked up from his phone when Red stood right in front of him, and before he could do anything, say anything, Red sucker punched him square across the jaw, hard enough that Blue heard the disgusting sound. His phone clattered on the ground. His cigarette fell to the pavement, and orange cinders bounced around where it landed. Rob went down as well, too surprised to do much else. His face twisted. Blue closed the distance, until he stood breathless before them, grabbing onto Red’s arm.

“It’s you.” Rob growled. Red gave him a kick to the stomach, despite Blue pulling him back.

“How does it feel?” Red’s voice was starting to scare Blue, crazed and angry. He stepped closer, feeling his heart start to rush in his ears.

“Red, that’s enough.”

Red ignored him, gave him another kick.

“Got beaten by a bunch of faggots,” Red shouted. The thug was rolling, trying to curl up on himself, in too much pain to respond.

“Red, let’s go.” He pulled him by the arm, much harder this time, leading them away from the scene. No one else was around, but who knew if there were any cameras?

“You’re gonna pay for this shit. You’re gonna get what’s comin’ to you!” The man looked up at them, a little bit of blood dripping to the concrete. Without being able to stop it, Red opened his mouth again, even as Blue shoved him into the passenger seat.

“You’re not so tough on your own! We can take it.” Red shouted back. Blue closed the door on him.

 _The fact that he’s not so tough on his own_ , thought Blue, _is exactly what I’m worried about._

He glared at Red as he turned the ignition, and was glad that the guy was still on the ground, because once he got up they’d be in trouble.

“You’re so fucking tough, Red,” he spat. He put the car into reverse, as angrily as he could while still observing proper driving etiquette. “Everyone understand how much of a badass you are.”

He violently pulled his seatbelt, clicking it into place and looking into the mirror behind him.

“You’re seriously defending him?” countered Red, and Blue tried not to grind his teeth as he pulled onto the road. “That guy shoved you into the wall, fucked up my insides,” he pulled up his shirt, and Blue refused to look at the mess on his torso, focusing on merging onto the correct lane, “and three people in the forest are dead.”

“You don’t know that was him! You don’t even know if that really happened!” Blue was yelling now, despite the throb of his head. Red slammed his fist on the dashboard, leaving a small smudge of blood in the process.

“It doesn’t matter! God, you never stand up for yourself! You’re so worried about what people think of you, and following the rules, and you never do anything for yourself.”

Blue felt the urge to slam his foot on the breaks, just to see Red (who was without a seatbelt, of course) fly into the dashboard facefirst. He held back the temptation, but put all his anger into flicking on his turn signal to give the guy behind him plenty of notice before he turned.

“Oh, and you’re such a great example, Red. How should I life my life, huh? Should I just throw consequences to the wind? Fuck the rules, I guess. Might as well get arrested.”

Red didn’t respond, so Blue kept going.

“You know why we never got kicked out of our apartment? Do you know why you graduated high school? Do you know why you’re not rotting in prison right now? It’s all because of me, Red. You do whatever you want and I’m always the one who deals with the consequences.

“You know what? I’m done. The next time you get into trouble, I’m out. You call me from jail again, and I’m not picking up.”

Blue had said this a million times before, the same lecture told every time they drove home, after Blue had paid bail and patched Red up. But he had something now, something to look forwards to in the future.

His voice was quieter with his next words.

“I’m marrying Pink, okay? And you’re gonna have to figure shit out because I won’t be there. After the wedding, we’re done, okay? I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Good,” gruffed Red, “won’t have to deal with your nagging anymore.”

The car went silent.


	16. Part Sixteen: My Shortest Chapter Ever

Red was the first to break the silence, though he kept his gaze fixed out the window, refusing to meet Blue’s eye.

“I’m sorry I beat up a Nazi and almost got us arrested.”

Blue sighed, and if he wasn’t currently driving, he would’ve run both his hands through his hair.

“It’s okay. He probably deserved it, anyway.”

A long pause passed, and Blue finally stopped chewing on his lips.

“I’m sorry too, for yelling.”

The car felt lighter as they continued to drive.


	17. Part Seventeen: A little fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are nice before they get fucked up woooooo

 

 

The traffic eventually slowed down their pace, and Blue started to get restless after hours of driving. He nudged Red, who had fallen asleep.

“Wanna stop somewhere?” He knew there wasn’t much but road and forest for hours, but he just needed to get up and walk around. Red nodded, so he pulled over.

There was a rest stop just off the road that pretty much looked like all the other rest stops. Unlike all the other rest stops, however, this one had a crowd of people in it, and cars parked in a lot behind a road sign. Blue pulled the prius into the nearest spot and popped out.

“Bring the backpack, would you?” Red nodded and leaned over to sling the thing over his back. Blue stretched his legs out. God, his back would probably be fucked up for days with all this driving. It was good to be out, though. The sun was shining and there was a slight breeze. His pasty-ass skin would probably get burned if he stayed out for too long, but there was sunscreen in the backpack, so he didn't bother.

“Long drive?” Blue turned around at the voice, to see a big man lugging an equally big bag under his arm.

“Yeah,” answered Red, before Blue could say anything, “it was fucking brutal.”

Blue shot him a look.

“I was the one driving! You just napped for four hours.”

“And that was the hardest nap of my life.”

“Where’re you guys from?” The man had a gigantic beard made of wiry red hair, and was a good fifty pounds heavier than Blue.

“California,” he answered, as he leaned back and locked the car. “Why is everyone parked?”

The man turned around, and yelled at a woman pulling towels out of a car further down in the lot, “why are we stopping?”

“There’s a swimming hole! We're swimming” She slammed the door shut, pushing her sunglasses to her forehead, and moved close enough to lower her voice. “I think there’s a rickety path somewhere around here.”

“If I don’t get into some water I’m gonna kill someone,” announced Red, who had sweated through the back of his shirt. The man just laughed, gesturing them to follow along.

“Then let’s find the river, sweatballs.”

Blue decided he liked the guy.

 

             “I’m gonna jump!” Red announced, and began towards the swimming hole.

“We don’t have any towels!” Blue called after him, but he was ignored, and almost wanted to cringe at how much he sounded like a mother hen. It’d taken them about twenty minutes of hiking and a couple wrong turns, but the four of them had somehow made it to the river. It was a huge swimming hole, with big rock cliffs on either side. The water was deep and slow, and changed to an emerald green just below the cliff. Blue wanted to swim immediately.

“Last one to drown’s a pussy!” Red raced ahead of him, losing his flipflops, backpack, hat, and tearing off his shirt as he ran. He whooped as he struggled out of his pants, and Blue barely got mad when he realised Red was wearing his boxers.

Blue followed, sprinting along the edge towards the deep water. The rocks dug into the soft spots on his feet, and their clothes would most likely be sandy when they returned, but he didn’t want Red to win. He kicked off his shorts and flew past the man, barely getting his foot out of the leg before he jumped.

He fell off the ledge, and for a moment, the world was a green smear. When he broke the surface, it knocked some air out of him, but he stopped himself from breathing in the water. He did open his eyes, though, and he saw the riverbed around him. His vision was blurry, but he could see fish lazing along the rocky bottom, smaller minnows darting nearer to the surface.

Canada was fucking awesome.

He heard Red plunge in besides him, making a billowing sort of sound, and he broke to get some air. Blue slicked back the hair in his eyes, treading water and panting slightly. He saw the woman jump in behind them, stripped down to panties and a flimsy bra.

Red hollered as she hit the water, and his voice echoed off the rocky cliffs.

“Yeah!” Blue joined in, seeing a figure race up towards the edge.

“Get the fuck out of the way,” shouted the guy with the beard. Blue swam further away from the ledge, enjoying the refreshing water, while Red flipped him two birds.

“You get the fuck out of the way!” Red, however, was not the greatest of swimmers, and couldn’t keep his head above water without his arms. He came up sputtering after going under for a second, and then immediately got splashed by the bearded man when he came up. Blue laughed.

“Use your arms to swim, fucktard.”

The two made their way the other bank, and struggled to balance on the slimy rocks in the shallow water. Red was still coughing out some water, and once he reached the shore, flopped himself onto the sand. Blue sat down beside him. The sand warmed his feet and legs, and despite the slight breeze, he wasn’t cold in the blazing sun. The couple took turns flinging themselves off the cliff, laughing and screaming and chattering. The woman dunked the guy under the water, and he kissed her when he came back up.

Blue looked at their surroundings. The cliffs were steep and jagged, but above them was brilliant green foliage. With the constant rushing of the river, he could hear the birds cheeping and the papery sound that leaves made in the wind. Red rested beside him on his stomach, his face turned the other way. Droplets were still beaded on his back, sliding off his sides to wet the sand. He watched the rise and fall of his back, and the way gooseflesh came up when a breeze passed. Blue let himself lay back, ignoring the knowledge that his hair’d be full of sand when he got up. Right now he was content just to rest.


	18. Arson is my favourite passtime

More people arrived at the swimming hole just as Blue had gotten up from his bank-side nap. Once they’d washed off all the sand, which took longer than Blue would’ve liked, with his gross sandy hair, they gathered all their shit up, and walked off towards the car. Blue slipped on his shirt and shoes, while Red just walked around with his boxers.

“Do you guys want some beer?” the woman yelled at them down by the beach. Red looked hopeful, but Blue shook his head.

“In a sec. Give us a minute.” Once they’d started on the path back up to the lot, Blue said, “hey, could you pass me the keys from my pants?”

They were almost out of the trees and into the lot when he heard roaring. It didn’t surprise him at first, because, shit, they were right by a road. But when guys on bikes with leather jackets pulled into the stop, Blue’s heart stopped in his throat.

“Oh shit!” He tackled Red to the ground, hoping they hadn’t been seen. Red was too surprised to resist at first, and Blue struggled to keep him out of sight.

“What the fuck are you-“

He hushed him, listening carefully. Red took notice, falling silent on the ground. The roaring had stopped, and Blue risked lifting his head above the foliage to take a peek.

“It’s them.”

“Who?” Blue was still on top of Red, and a giant bush

“The guys that hate you.”

“Wow, thanks, that’s specific. Wanna try and narrow that down for me?”

“Jesus Christ, the gang members!”

“Which ones?”

“The ones who called you a faggot!”

Red was starting to get frustrated.

“Which ones?”

“The fucking nazis, shit-brains!” He may have said that a little too loudly, and one of the jackets turned his head in their direction. Red just laughed.

“Oh, man,” Red said, a chuckle in his words, “if they find us they’ll definitely kill us.”

That made Blue feel safe.

“Whatchu guys up to?”

The two men started so violently, Blue barely stopped himself from shouting.

The redheaded guy was standing, or leaning, rather, on a tree. In his hand he held a beer bottle. Blue rolled off Red, feeling a little insecure.

“First of all, quiet down,” he said, “second of all, we were watching nazis, not having sex.”

“I never said you were,” the man pointed out, “but if sex is off the table, can I join you?”

Blue didn’t see the harm, so he nodded, and the guy smiled, obviously happy to be included. He crouched down into their hiding place and laid down on his stomach, forcing the other two to shuffle over.

“Are those guys the Nazis?” he gestured at the guys on the pavement, circling their car. One was holding a wrench, and Blue watched him smash open a window with familiar ease, and open the car from the inside. His heart sank a little. There went that deposit.

“Yup.” Red answered after taking a swig, “I beat the shit out of one of them.”

The guy laughed, taking back his beer, “Oh man, if they find you, they’ll definitely kill you.”

“I know, right?”

Blue let his head fall to the dirt. He tried to be positive. The guys hadn't seen them, and while they seemed angry, all they'd done so far was smash a window. Blue's wallet was in the backpack, so the only thing they could steal were some bags of clothes and a bottle of rum they'd stowed in the back.

He turned when he heard footsteps, but it was just the woman from before walking up to them. She was also holding a beer bottle, and got close enough to crouch down next to them. “Hey, what’re you guys up to?”

“We’re watching Nazis,” explained the guy, who took her beer bottle and gave his own to Red.

She nodded, “cool,” sitting down next to the three men. _The more the merrier_ , thought Blue, glumly, as she looked through the leaves. “Are they the guys about to burn your car?”

Blue lifted his head at that. They were indeed about to burn his car. One of them, can of gasoline in hand, was covering the whole thing in well practised sloshes.

“Shit,” even Red seemed shocked, "our fucking car."

“All our stuff is in there,” Blue whispered, “our stuff, our clothes.”

“Shit,” Red repeated.

The group just watched their work, satisfied. One took the time to spray paint something on the concrete, probably to drive the whole gang theme home. He high-fived another member when he finished, and got back on his bike. With the car fully ablaze, the jackets left, revving their motorcycles and disappearing around the bend.

Blue stepped out onto the pavement and just stood transfixed. The fire had grown up to flicker out the windows, and was quickly getting higher. Even standing as far as he was, he could feel the heat burn his face. He took a step further and just watched it burn, helpless. All of their stuff, all of their possession, toiletries, maps, his plans, their ride. He felt Red grab his hand, pulling him back.

“Let’s not be here when it blows, okay?” Blue just nodded, and let himself be moved back to the path. He heard people running up from the swimming hole, probably concerned by the smoke.

“What’s going on?” someone yelled from the path, “is there a forest fire?”

The redheaded guy turned and yelled back.

“No, Nazis just burnt these guys’ car down.”

“Wow. They’re probably fucked,” came the reply.

“Yeah, probably.” The guy agreed, before the woman shot daggers at him and smacked him across the shoulder, “ow!” he whined, rubbing the spot. He gestured to Blue, who was trying his best not to cry, and Red, who looked like he was about to kill someone, “they are fucked though.”

The woman turned to them, and put an arm of comfort on Blue. “Aw, lighten up, guys. You’ll figure things out.” Blue appreciated the sentiment, but really wasn’t so sure.

“Let us give you a ride into town, okay? Then you can figure yourselves out from there.”

Blue was still staring at the big pile of flames, so Red took charge.

“That’d be great, thanks!” He pulled Blue along by the wrist, following the two eagerly. He shoved Blue into the back seat, and stepped in as well, putting their backpack between them.

“I remember when my car caught on fire,” the guy explained, as he started the engine. Blue just leaned his head back into the seat and closed his eyes, as Red grabbed his hand in an attempt of moral support. “I was super upset, but it happens. The next time Nazis burn your car down, it’ll be easier, trust me.”


	19. Getting Back

“By the way, what’s your name?” The woman tapped her fingernails along the steering wheel, occasionally glancing back at Blue to see if he was still breathing. The man had cracked his window open a bit to cool down the car.

“I’m Red, and this is Blue,” said Red, gesturing to Blue, “we’re on a road trip to Vancouver.”

“Cool,” she responded, “I’m Sarah and this is Tom. We’re also on a road trip, but just to Alberta.” Tom reached his hand out from shotgun and they did an awkward handshake. Blue didn’t bother moving to shake his hand, even after Red nudged him.

“So,” said Tom after a minute of silence, “now that we’re friends, can I ask what the fuck happened to your face?”

          They arrived at the same motel they’d left from that same morning. The same receptionist looked at them, his forehead wrinkling.

“You’re back,” he noticed the couple standing behind them, “and there’s more of you.”

Red leaned on the counter, shrugging.

“Yeah. Nazis lit our car on fire, so we need another room for the night.” He chucked Blue’s wallet on the table and took out a fifty. “How much is it?”

“Well, since we haven’t even cleaned your room yet, you can have the old one. Forty bucks.” He gave Red a ten, and almost looked like he wanted to ask about the car burning thing. At the last moment he decided against it, and just ended with, “have a nice stay.”

“Thanks, man,” was Red’s reply, and he pulled Blue by the wrist out the door.

“You guys got everything settled, then?” Sarah asked. She handed Red the backpack, and he slung it over his shoulder and smiled.

“Yup.” He ignored Blue’s dead-eyed expression, and took the opportunity to shake both their hands. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem,” Tom took out a piece of paper and pushed it into Red’s hand. “For if your car burns down again.”

He made a call me sign with his hand, and winked.

“We will. See ya!”

“Goodbye, you two! Have a fun trip.” The woman closed the door, and they drove off.

That left Blue, empty, shellshocked, and unresponsive, with Red in charge of their itinerary.

“There’s a liquor store twenty minutes down the road,” mentioned Red, mostly to himself, “I think the first item on our list should be getting wasted.”

“I want to drink until I can’t feel,” mumbled Blue, looking into nothing. Red clapped him on the back.

“That’s the spirit!”

The walk to the liquor store was quiet, and the walk back was the same. Once they got back to their room, Red pushed Blue onto the unused bed (because the other one was still disgusting), and handed him the smirnoff. Blue took a swig and forced as many gulps down as he could before he leaned over, coughing.

“Drink as fast as you want, but if you start puking I’m banishing you to the bathroom,” Red warned, and took it upon himself to lay out the few items in the backpack onto the bed. There were their passports (thank god), a bottle of water, two granola bars, spray-able sunscreen, three pairs of underwear (two of which already worn), a fold up umbrella, an extra t-shirt, an overnight bag with their toothbrushes, and the fold up map Blue had crushed into the top. As far as car burnings usually went, they had a lot of stuff.

“Our passports are still here. That makes things easier.”

Blue sputtered, some spit sliding down his chin, but the next drink went down easier. Red went back to their stuff.

By the time he had everything sorted out, Blue had stripped and gotten himself cozy on the cot. There was an impressive dent in the bottle, and Red moved it to the other side of the room, not wanting to be puked on. He allowed himself a hefty swig and screwed the cap shut.

“I need to call Pink and tell her we’re fucked,” Blue mumbled into the blanket, probably already drunk (the pussy that he was). Red had taken over possession of his phone and wallet, and made sure to tuck it into the backpack by the passports.  
“Stop being so dramatic.”

Blue just responded by rolling away from him. Red continued.

 “We’re not fucked. We have plenty of stuff, and the Nazis didn’t kill us. We weren’t murdered! I think you’re forgetting the positive side of this.”

“They burned our rental car!” God, was Blue gonna cry? Red rolled his eyes.

“The key word there, is rental, man. Get drunk with me, fall asleep, and we’ll deal with things in the morning. I’ll even call Pink myself and tell her it was my fault.” He stressed out the last part of the sentence, hoping Blue’d notice how generous he was being.

“It was your fault,” stressed Blue, who sounded thirty seconds away from passing out.

He kicked off his flipflops and shoved down his pants and boxers (which were still slightly wet from swimming, but he could deal).

“Unimportant information,” he shot back, crawling into the bed to settle beside him. “The point is, we’re gonna be fine. Just leave it to me.”

“That’s the worse advice you’ve ever given.”

“And you’re still gonna follow it.”

“Yeah.” Blue yawned, settling deeper into the comforter.

“We really do make a good team, you and I,” Red huddled closer, pressing himself against the warm expanse of Blue’s back.

“Hmm. Whyzzat?”

“Cuz with you, I feel balanced.”

Blue didn’t respond with anything but snores.

             When there was a hurried knock on the door, Red didn’t move. Blue was warm, snuggled beside him, smelling like sweat and vodka. Whoever was outside didn’t give up easily. The knock came again, louder this time, and he groaned in annoyance. He swung his legs off the bed and pulled his boxers on, stumbling over to the door.

“I thought I’d find you here,” said the person once Red had swung it open.

“God, you shit really don’t know when to quit, do you?” He barked, anger rushing back. He just wanted to sleep next to Blue, goddamnit.

“What’s going on?” Blue’s voice came slurred and sleepy from the bed. He ignored him.

“I just came to tell you that there’s an opportunity at the bar tonight. Frank’s there alone, and I think you’ll be happy at the opportunity for some payback.”

Red grinned, and the gang member on his doorstep grinned back.

                Blue woke up alone. He blinked, trying to clear his head. Red wasn’t in the bathroom, or in the other bed. The room keys were gone from the bedtable, and Blue pushed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“One day I’m going to kill him.”

He found his shoes and clothes on the floor and hopped into them, leaning against the wall for balance. He had somehow managed to not throw up all over himself before he fell asleep, but he could still feel the alcohol swirling in his brain. He opened the door and stepped out, his whole body going icy with fear when he saw a leather standing outside the bar, smoking by two beautiful Harleys.

The guy looked at him and nodded, only going back to his smoking, which only made Blue more nervous. He ran into the bar, where Red stood over that terrifying man. Frank, he remembered. The guy looked pissed, and incredibly drunk. Regardless, Red was trying to start something. Blue knew it.

He tried to grab Red’s arm to shut him up, but Red payed him no attention. He just slammed the palm of his hand on the bar and leaned into the other man’s face.

“We know it was you, Franklin.”

Even through his anger, the very drunk man looked amused. He shrugged and went back to his drink.

“And do you have any proof?”

“Your stupid symbol was spraypainted on the pavement.”

“So? Anyone could’ve done that.”

Red was seething, and to be honest, so was Blue, but he knew that they were in no position to fight, considering the four other guys this dick had for backup, not to mention their ability to burn cars. Red was on the edge, but he seemed to come back to himself when Blue dug his nails into skin as a warning.

“Come back when you have some evidence, little boy,” the guy had the gall to ruffle Red’s hair, and Blue knew they were fucked.

Red charged the guy, but instead of swinging at him, he grabbed him with both arms, tipping him off the stool.

The two scuffled on the ground, both too drunk to do much, and Blue pulled Red off the ground before anyone got more than a punch in.

A new bartended, who Blue’d never seen before pulled Frank off the ground, and pointed a finger to the door. Blue didn’t question the threatening look in his eye. He pulled them out into the open air.

“You’re a piece of work, do you know that?”

“You love me anyways.”

“Shut up. I don’t know if you’ve figured this out yet, but we don’t have a car anymore, and you getting into fights isn’t helping.”

“Sometimes making enemies is worth it.” Blue rolled his eyes.

“Awesome, you’re reckless and concussed. We’re gonna have to bus to Edmonton and fly home, you know? We have no clothes, no car… why are you smiling?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

“Red,”

“Shhhh, I pulled through okay?”

Blue opened his mouth, but Red pressed a kiss to his lips, leaving a smear of blood.

“Stop talking and look.” He held up his hand.

“You didn’t,” Blue stared at the object like it was a gun, or a bomb, or something equally likely to get him killed. It was likely to get them killed, actually, so it wasn’t too far off.

“I did. Let’s see how he feels once he figures out what’s missing.”

Clutched in his hands were the keys.

            The bike was pretty damn impressive, and Blue probably would have been more impressed if he knew anything about bikes. With what he had, however, it just looked expensive. And very well cared for.

“Nice bike,” commented Red, and the guy who’d been smoking gave him a look.

“Well we kind of have to. Brand recognition and all that. Hop on.”

It took him longer than he’d admit to figure out where the keys were supposed to go, but he slid onto the wide seat, and Red sat down beside him, not bothering to take off the backpack. He felt powerful, with Red’s hands around his waist and the wide handlebars under his fingers.

“Have you ever driven a motorcycle before?” The guy looked concerned. This was probably not a good sign. Nazis were not supposed to be concerned.

“It must be pretty similar to a car, right?” Blue shrugged. After everything that had gone wrong, new driving skills really didn’t sound bad.

“Sure,” the guy responded, still concerned. “There’s a tracker on the underside of the carriage,” explained the man, looking behind him nervously, “I don’t know if there’s anything in there that’s worth taking, but you could probably pry it open with a crowbar.”

Blue wasn’t really listening, too busy inspecting the side of the bike, but he nodded anyways.

“I have to go. Drive quickly. And don’t forget to stop once you get to Saskatchewan to chuck the tracker in a ditch.”

“Alright,” replied Red, grinning like a devil through his bloody mouth, “thanks for your help!”


End file.
